


Walking on broken glass

by Cattuesmountain



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Love/Hate, Old Married Couple, Rape Aftermath, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19999132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Catherine's & Henry's lives would look like if they've lived in our digital age? Would their marriage be just as poisonous, difficult and frustrating? Damn right, exactly like that! Catherine/Henry – Cathry (main pairing); Mary/Francis (minor pairing)





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:"Reign" or the characters used in it are not mine, but the crazy idea about transfering Henry, Catherine & Co. in our modern times belongs to me. :-) Violations of any rights are not intended.  
Pairing: Catherine/Henry – Cathry (main pairing); Mary/Francis (minor pairing)  
Rating: Explicit

Personal remarks: I am sure that I will not always succeed in remaining completely in-character in an AU-setting. However, I will try to do justice to all involved characters. Please be aware that I write this fanfiction in German and translate it later on. So it might take some time here and there to post an update.

Walking on broken glass

Chapter 1

With screeching tires Henry Valois speeded down the narrow driveway to parking level 1 with his black Ford Mustang. He was late, not the first time this week. But this time, Catherine was going to give him hell. Now more than ever.  
Today was their monthly Jour-Fix meeting she convened to discuss the state of company. A meeting that also served as some sort of leadership brainstorming for expansion and innovation. Obviously his wife took these meetings very seriously. And tardiness as a personal affront. Especially if the person in question was her husband.

After the last sharp bend Henry jamed on the brakes and let out a rude curse when he saw Catherine's red Porsche 911 that was parked in the middle of both CEO parking lots reserved for the two of them.   
"For crying out loud! Damn it woman, where did you learn to park!", he shouted angrily and drove around the next corner to search for a free employee parking lot.

To his annoyance he only found one on the second parking level and lost some more precious minutes. After he had parked his car, Henry hurried to the elevator that unfortunately stopped on almost every floor of the building to let people in or out and added to his growing frustration. He impatiently kept glancing at his Rolex, but no matter how often he checked the time, the fact that he was twenty minutes too late was out of question.  
Finally the door to the management floor of Val-Sec - Valois Security opened and he rushed down the hall, past Catherine's secretary. Out of breath, Henry tore the door to the executive board meeting room open.

Five pairs of eyes immediately focused on the newcomer. One of them shot poisonous arrows in his direction.  
"How lovely that you could arrange it as well, Henry," his wife said instead of a greeting and the icy undertone that clung to her words didn't escaped those present. The arctic winter was nothing against an angry Catherine de' Medici.  
Henry just grunted in irritation and poured himself a cup of coffee instead of giving her a reply. He wasn't up for a dispute without prior caffeine intake.

Catherine gestured for Richard de la Croix, their personnel manager, to continue with his report. Henry only listened with one ear. His wife took care of all personnel matters and they admittedly didn't interest him. What mattered to him was the continious development of their products and their fight against their competitors to hold their ground as global market leader.  
And their competitors did not sleep but put forward new innovations in the internet security segment. They all knew that they could only grow by opening new doors in the area of security and surveillance technology in the long run.

Should Catherine be responsible for their staff and their finances. As long as the business was going well and she did not interfere in his section of development, he would let her have carte blanche at full length.  
Because no matter how capricious, temperamental and stubborn his wife may be, she was a cunning businesswoman with a keen intuition for the right investments.

Their son Francis was sitting next to his mother, eagerly absorbing each detail of Richard's report. Now and then he lowered his blond head to take some notes. The boy had turned 21 just a few weeks ago and Catherine had insisted that he was now old enough to become part of their management team step by step. And his boy was doing well. Maybe he still acted out a little bit hesitant but he had inherited his parents sense for business. He met his growing obligations quite eagerly and with great care. Given time and with more experience they would be able to entrust Fancis with the junior management of their company.

The next report was that of Paula Baker, a woman in her mid-fifties with an ugly page boy haircut and a pesky, nasal voice. She endlessly held forth about the one and only topic she ever talked about: financial accounting. Within a few minutes Henry's head was buzzing while Paula tortured them with terms such as working capital, EBITDA margins, and cash flow.

Bored out of his mind he took out his mobile phone and unlocked the screen. Several unread messages were waiting for him. On top of them was a whatsapp Kenna had sent him. With a smug grin on his face he opened their message history. This nasty little minx had sent him a picture where she was posing with nothing more than a tiny piece of black lace on. She was laying on the same bed where he had woken up merely an hour ago. Slightly hungover and disoriented.

Last night they went out. Actually he had only planned to take her to a good restaurant but Kenna had persuaded him to visit one of the exclusive hip clubs. In the end he just gave in.  
She was a sweet, naive little thing that lived in a shared flat with 2 equally young girls he met this moring while only wearing his boxer shorts. And truth been told – all of them could have been his children. Not exactly the best way to start a day.  
He liked her, even though her childish nature annoyed him more and more.  
Nor was she the brightest kid but she adored him and massaged his ego – among other parts of his body. She was doing more for him in that department than his wife Catherine did.

Henry pressed the back button and saw that his wife had also sent him some text messages. The first one was from yesterday afternoon where she asked him to pick up their youngest son Charles from his softball game as she was stuck in a meeting with potential partner companies. Numerous messages had followed, her tone getting sharper from text to text until she had called him "an irresponsible, dick-driven whoremonger" around midnight. In Italian.

Henry stifled a loud sigh. Just when he was about to close the window, a new text message popped up. "I know that you don't show any respect to me these days but could you please - at least for Paula's sake - pursue your silly mobile games less conspicuous? You are director of this company, a company I have laboriously built up to what it is today. SO WILL YOU KINDLY GET A GRIP, HENRY!"

Hereupon he lifted his head and looked at Catherine but she remained completely aloof at the other end of the table. She did not even bat an eye while seeming mainly focused on Paula. As always, his wife was the role model of a perfect businesswoman. Her long, reddish-blond hair was perfectly styled and fell onto her shoulders in soft, perfect locks, the obscenely expensive Armani costume fitted her perfectly as well as the white silky blouse underneath. And even though he couldn't see seem, Henry was sure that her black stilettos were also perfectly matched to her outfit. And she was perfect at multitasking, because nothing gave away that his beautiful wife secretly had spread her poison in his direction just mere seconds ago.

Henry began to type a snippy reply but made the mistake of looking up. The murderous gaze his wife threw at him that moment made him swallow hard. He dropped his phone on the table with a soft thud as if its burned his hands. The smug smile on Catherine's face and the way she raised her eyebrow in innocence accelerated his heartrate skywards.

Involuntarily he wondered when they had last communicated like normal people. Each of their encounters, whether in the company or at home, was a perpetual power struggle. One of the kind that deprived him of every ounce of energy. Who could blame him for losing himself in harmless little affairs with women like Kenna. Because Kenna did not glare at him with that look of deepest disappointment nor did she scream at him when he used up the last milk or missed an appointment.

And Kenna's body didn't freeze as soon as he let his hands wander over it. She rather welcomed his touch, loved him with a devotion that flattered his ego and nurtured his lust in a way that Catherine could no longer tolerate. One of the few circumstances he would never hold against her.

But what he did hold against his wife was the paralyzing helplessness that always overcame him when his more gentle approaches ricocheted from her walls. These protective walls she had built a decade ago and that were still intact despite his numerous attempts to bring them down. In fact they had not even cracked.

In the end, the last option left was giving up. And her stubborn, acted out of false pride nonchalance had driven him to more women than he could count. Over time he had forgotten if he wanted to punish her or simply distract himself from his broken marriage and the guilt he was feeling. Maybe both. Henry was not proud of his actions but since Catherine made no move to fix what was left of their marriage, he buried his ambiguous feelings for her in the deepest corner of his heart and chose the path of all cowards. Resignation coupled with ignorance and an unhealthy dose of bitterness.

All told he knew that it was not their four children who made her cling to this presumed dead marriage, but their company. Without Catherine's Medici money the company would face bankruptcy and on the other side she could no longer stay on the market without his technical expertise, much less dominate it. Both of them knew that and Henry watched Catherine's efforts to establish her eldest son, her golden boy, at his young age on the board with growing concern. The boy worshiped the ground his mother walked on. He however was only addressed by his son with angry glares he had obviously copied from the woman who had perfected them.  
There was no one on earth who could freeze the blood in his veins with only one single glance except his Catherine.

In order to counteract her ambitions he had offered Francis' older half-brother Sebastian a job in his development department and made every effort to share his knowledge. His boy, who was two years older than Francis, emated from his liaison with Diane, an older woman whom he had impregnated at a young age even before he met Catherine.  
Bash was a smart, aspiring young man and although he had not always been a good father to him, Bash had already proven to be a loyal and innovative associate. Nevertheless, his position was not comparable to that of Francis, who, unlike Sebastian, was inexorably pushed by his mother.

"Thank you Paula. We need to pay more attention to the payment behavier of our big customers. Overdues unnecessarily slow down our cash flow. Paula, I need all the figures from last quarter. Henry?"

He cleared his throat and rose from his chair. Meetings like these tired him. He was well aware that they were necessary for a company of this size, but why Catherine insisted that he also had to attend was and remained a mystery to him.  
Unlike the others he declined to prepare any presentation with data, numbers and unnecessary frills. He spoke free and straight from the heart, concentrating only on his ongoing projects and dismissed himself after his succinct report before the meeting was over. As soon as he had closed the door it was already torn open again by Catherine, who angrily stormed after him.

"What's that all about?", she hissed indignantly.  
"That's exactly the question I've asked myself when I saw how impossibly daft you've parked this morning. We are not in Italy, Catherine. The next time your car blocks my parking lot, I'll have it towed, I swear to you."

Instead of being ashamed by her miserable driving and parking skills, she merely rolled her eyes. A gesture that drove him crazy.  
"You'll see what happens then." Catherine planted herself in front of him and the threatening sparkle in her brown eyes caused discomfort in his stomach.  
"I hardly can't wait. My dear, don't you have a meeting to attend?" He asked with an ironic undertone and pointed to the door of the conference room.  
"You as well."  
"Oh no, my duty here is done. I still have work to do, Catherine. Real work."

Wild horses couldn't drag him back to this meeting. Should she take care of all these dreadfully boring affairs, his true passion was a more practical approach.  
"Is it really too much to ask for? Can't you even pretend to behave like a damned director once a month, Henry?" Catherine didn't even wait for an answer but stalked back into the meeting room.

Quite automatically his eyes wandered to her round behind. He loved the way her tight skirt showed her ass to advantage. On the other hand he cursed the fact that she still had the ability to activate his pleasure center.


	2. Chapter 2

"Charlie? Claude? I'm home. I'm sorry, my meeting took a bit longer than expected but I brought takeout from Ha Long!", Catherine shouted while she hurried down the hallway, loaded with several grocery bags, her purse and a laptop. She made it to the kitchen just in time before one of the heavy paper bags could slip from her grasp and dropped the groceries on the counter in the middle of the room.  
Usually Rosalie was responsible for the families grocery shopping but the Peruvian had called in sick this week due to a severe flu. Although Rosalie sent them her teenage daughter Ana Maria who took over most of the household chores but the girl had no driver's license and so Catherine had to drive to the store herself.  
On the upper floor she could hear doors being torn open, followed by the noise of a small elephant herd while her children stormed down the stairs.

"About time, I'm starving," grumbled Claude, her 17-year-old teenage daughter and tore open the plastic bag that contained three boxes of Chinese food. She checked all boxes and chose one.  
"There's meat in each of them," complained her youngest and wrinkled up his nose while he pointed accusingly at their food. His long dark hair fell into his slightly pimpled forehead and Catherine mad a mental note to arrange a much needed hair appointment for Charles.  
"The last time you complained that I didn't bring duck in sweet-sour sauce," she pointed out and slipped out of her high heels. The cool granite floor was a blessing for their battered feet. "Just eat rice and vegetables." Catherine took a plate out of the cupboard and placed the declined duck on it. With a determined expression on her face she pressed the now meat-free box into her pouting child's hand as well as a set of chopsticks.  
"Great, I bet it still tastes like meat," he grumbled, but grabbed the food and a coke from the fridge and fled back to his room.

Gazing after him, both women shook their heads in amazement. Before the older one could ask, Claude already preempted with an explanation.  
"He saw a video about livestock farming on Youtube and decided to live vegan from now on." Catherine raised an eyebrow and opened her own food box.  
"Did he watch this video today? Because this morning he wolfed down a large portion of omelet with cheese." She broke the wooden chopsticks in half, seized a piece of chicken and put it in her mouth.  
"Nobody ever said that vegans are intelligent," her daughter explained with a smug grin. "I'll eat upstairs as well. Thanks Mum."  
"Just go ahead, child. Family meals are completely overrated," Catherine called after her and sighed. Basically she shouldn't even wonder about her children's behavior. They were left to themselves far too often and truth be told, she could not even remember the last meal they had together – as a family.

She devoured her food right on the spot as she had missed out her lunch break and felt like dying of hunger. Just as she had finished her last bite and poured herself a glass of red wine the front door opened.  
So Henry condescend to actually come home this evening. Soon after her husband appeared in the kitchen.  
"That smells delicious", he said and approached the counter to inspect her groceries. "Where is my food?", he asked a few seconds later with an irritated look.  
"At Ha Long's, I suppose," she informed him while throwing her empty food container into the bin. She couldn't suppress a sense of malicious glee when she turned to look at Henry.  
"How very considerate of you," her husband snarled and reached past her to pour himself a glass of wine.

His hot breath brushed against her cheek, causing the fine hair on the base of her neck to rise in awareness. Catherine turned her head.  
"How should I predict if my husband intends to spend the night at home in his own bed or with one of his numerous sluts?" Even though she tried to sound more amused than hurt, a feeling of offence still clung to her voice.  
"Since you're going to such great length to make my home a place of comfortableness with your warmth and love, isn't that so, Catherine?"  
Henry's words too were meant to hurt but Catherine merely rolled with her eyes. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of showing him how close his hostility got at her.  
"Eat this, your son is a vegan now." Carelessly she slammed the plate with the despised duck on the counter, grabbed her wine and went into the adjoining living room. "You can make yourself useful and put away the purchases."  
"We have a housekeeper for that!" He shouted after her.

"Do you have any idea what's going on in this househould? Rosalie's been sick since last friday, Henry. But please, don't feel compelled to lift a finger. Ana Maria can put the food away tomorrow. At least the things that won't be spoiled by then, "she shouted and dropped herself on the sofa. Feeling exhausted and bone-tired, Catherine pressed her fingers against her aching temples and massaged them with slight pressure.  
"And why didn't you put the stuff away since you're the one who bought them in the first place?" His outrageous question elicited an irritabled growl from deep inside her throat.  
"Here you are! Because I already went to the grocery store, Henry!" she snapped furiously, unwilling to give in on this matter even for one millimeter.   
"How comes I have to do everything myself?"

His wife didn't even waste her breath with a response. She simply didn't have any patience left for useless things today. He ought to do whatever he wanted. As always. She couldn't care less. Catherine turned on the TV and dismissively started to channel surf. But nothing could keep her attention for long.  
There was some rumbling noise coming from the kitchen, accompanied by Henry's cursing.  
"There you go," she murmured tiredly and let her head fall against the soft cushion of the couch. Suddenly every fiber of her body felt incredibly heavy and a chill captured her body. Using her smartphone she increased the room temperature by three degrees and spread a woolen blanket over her shivering body. Then she closed her eyes. At this moment she even lacked the energy to arise and go upstairs to get into her comfy bed.

Catherine startled awake when the volume of the television was suddenly turned up to an almost unbearable level.  
"What's up?", her words lacked her usual severity.  
"The Seahawks are on tonight. If you want to sleep, go upstairs," grumbled Henry. He had made himself at home on the other end of the couch. The remote control he had obviously wrenched from her grip was now resting in his hand.  
"You can watch your game upstairs. In case you haven't noticed, I was... ", before she could finish her sentence, Henry interrupted her brusquely.

"You were asleep, Catherine." Shaking her head she leaned over to her husband and reached for the remote control.  
Henry however did not give up without a fight and violently tugged at the piece of plastic so his wife lost her balance and slammed against his chest all of a sudden.  
"Damn it, Henry," she cursed and rubbed her shoulder. "We have agreed that the one who's first in is also the one who gets to watch on the big screen. Now stop behaving like a spoiled child and hand over the remote control!" She tried to stare her husband down with steely determination.  
"But the Seahawks are playing and you don't even want to watch anything special. You were sleeping when I walked in. You can do that upstairs, far better I would like to add."  
"Now I'm awake and I want to watch TV, "she said defiantly and wrenched the remote control from his hand, not without giving him a nasty glare. Then she reduced the volume once again and switched to another channel. To provoke him she remained stuck at a lame romantic comedy. Unsurprisingly Henry groaned and run hin hands over his bald head and his stubby face in frustration.

"You don't even want to watch this shitty romance," he wailed. "You hate these kind of movies."  
"Believe me, Darling, tonight I love them. For the simple reason that it upsets you. How about you? Wanna join me or do you want to see your game upstairs?" She knew that she was tormenting him mercylessly but they had their agreement he had stick to. Even more since it was him who came up with this stupid idea. A self-satisfied smile spread on her lips. If necessary she would spend the whole night watching shallow films. As long as Henry didn't get his will. She was more than willing to bring this special kind of sacrifice.  
"Great, you won. Have fun, Catherine!" Henry snapped and darted a wicked glare at her whereupon her grin even broaded.  
"Goodnight, Henry," she purred.


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine used the first commercial break to escape the ordeal of watching this unspeakably stupid movie and quietly went upstairs to look after the children. From Henrys and Claude's bedrooms came the unmistakable sounds of a heated football game.  
The days when all of them - as a family - watched the Seahawks live at the CenturyLink Field Stadium were things of the past. She herself had never cared much for this rough sport but her husband as well as most of her children were heartfelt fans of the first hour. Each new season they lived through the highs and lows of their beloved Seahawks.  
When did Henry stop seing the games in the stadium with Francis, Lizzy and Claude?

Probably when their marriage had gone to hell in a handbasket 13 years ago and when her husband started to avoid his house and family like the plague. The thought of how many hardships she'd caused her children in all these years while living her very own hell of a marriage hurt more than she could ever put into words.

Catherine knew that she wasn't paying enough attention to her children and didn't spend as much time with them as needed, but the constant balancing act between leading a multi-million dollar company and living up her obligations as a mother was an energy-sapping strenuous effort. And far too often her family was left behind.  
Even elitist all-day schools, expensive educations or the ill-conscience-led permission to let their Lizzy travel through Europe with only her backpack for a year could not change that. A decision that still sent a chill down her spine when she thought about the dangers her child might be facing at the back of beyond.

Catherine paused outside the closed door of her oldest daughter. She put her hand on the doorknob but did not find the strength to enter the room. She simply did not have the time nor the energy to lose herself in melancholy.

Instead she knocked at Claude's door in determination. At that very moment the teenager yelled an obscene curse. A similarly rude insult came from Henry's room.  
"Claude," Catherine admonished after she stepped in and gave her girl a once-over. Claude was kneeling on her bed, arms raised in frustration and stared at the screen, mesmerized. Over her long-sleeved shirt she wore a dark blue jersey in the colors of the Seahawks with the mumber 3 of her favorite player printed on the back.

"Not now, Mum," she said absently without taking her eyes off the TV. Nonetheless, Catherine crossed the room and kissed her distracted daughter on the forehead.  
"You'll be going to bed immediately after the game, have I made myself clear?"  
"Mm," was the only answer her daughter could hum before she moaned loudly and started to run her fingers through her curls in frustration because of an unsuccessful pass.  
"Good night, child," her mother sighed resignedly, reaching for the empty food carton and leaving the room again.

In Charlie's room she was greeted by the usual chaos of scattered clothes, school supplies and manga books. The room was dark and the smell that hit Catherine sensitives nose was a sour mix of sweat, unwashed clothes and over-worn sneakers.  
Her son's attention was fixed on his computer screen where he intended upon playing World of Warcraft. Shaking her head, Catherine went to the window to let some fresh air in. Her boy only paid her any attention when a cool breeze reached is motionless form and he looked up from the monitor for a split second.  
"What do you want?" He snarled, not even bothering to lift his head once more. "Are you kidding me?! Not on my watch!"  
"Excuse me?!" Catherine asked indignantly and placed herself between her son and the monitor, an ominous expression on her face.

"Not you - Demonchild! Mum, get out of the way!"  
"Charles Valois! Don't take that tone with me! And you better look at me when I'm talking to you."  
Charlie however ignored his mother and furiously pressed upon a few buttons in rapid succession.  
"Can't it wait, mum? Look, that ... Holy shit, you fucking traitor. MUM!" Her youngest son nearly fell from his chair in an attempt to get a better view at the monitor.

"That's enough now, Charles." Catherine circled the desk and pulled the plug of the device with dead serious resolve. Then she took the laptop and shut down the device, regardless of the still running programs. Instantly the game sounds died away and the room went into complete darkness.  
"MUM!" The teenager exclaimed indignantly while his mother switched on the light.  
"Time to call it a day." Catherine looked at the mess that Charlie lived in. With a shake of her head she pointed at the scattered clothes. The worn one was not to be distinguished from anything that still might be clean. "I don't like the amount of time you spend on this foolish game. Even less I like how your room looks like. You need to clean up, Charlie. How can you even feel comfortable in this mess?"

"I like it," came his defiant response that Catherine just ignored.  
"But I don't. So tidy up. No more WoW until you have your room in order", she informed him and pointed to the confiscated computer. Her youngest was staring at her full of panic. But his reaction couldn't soften her heart. Actually this confirmed that she was doing the right thing. It was not normal for a teenager to live solely in the virtual world.  
"Why don't you invite Mike over? You two have always been inseparable. I have not seen him for ages," she tried to lead him in a different direction.  
"No wonder. You're never at home. I see Mike each day! At school and online."

Just then Charles phone started to ring.  
"Hey man. Yeah shit, my mum took away my computer. Yes, so not cool. Could you tear up Demonchild's ass? No? Shit but ... well, okay, see you tomorrow, Mike."  
Angrily he threw his cell phone on the bed and stared accusingly at his mother.  
"Thanks to you we've lost this battle. Are you happy now?"  
"I'm satisfied after you've cleaned up here and came back to the real world with us other mortals. And do not forget to bring down your laundry so Ana Maria can wash it tomorrow. Good night, Charles."  
Catherine left the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

When she turned around she nearly collided with Henry.  
"What's going on? Am I not even allowed to watch my game without disturbances?" He had planted himself in front of her and without her heels Henry towered over her. But she had never felt intimidated by other persons height.  
"Then turn your TV louder. Maybe you'll be suffering from hearing loss. That would relieve me of the obligation to continue communicating with you when we're old," she bawled him out but instead of offering a nasty reply, Henry just laughed in amusement.  
"It doesn't bear contemplanting. All those wonderful sarcastic insults that would escape my attention that way, Kitten. But seriously, what's going on between you and the boy?"

She hated it when he called her Kitten. The days where they had exchanged terms of endearment were long gone and it annoyed her to an extent that he chose this nickname all of a sudden just as if he wanted to drive her up the wall. She decided not to give him the satisfaction by responding to it.  
"The usual, Henry. If you were to talk to your kids more than just two words per day you would know that your youngest spends every waking hour with this online crap that slowly but surely makes him turn into an Internet zombie."  
As if to underline her words she pointed to the confiscated computer that was covered with likewise alarming stickers.  
"I think you are exaggerating. It's good for the boy to occupy himself with modern media. After all there's a promising job waiting for him within a company that is focused on the internet. Taking away his laptop is the wrong signal, Catherine."

Getting angry at his ignorance, she slammed the computer against her husband's broad chest, which also held the empty lunch box from Claude's room that left a yellow stain on his shirt. "Please, go ahead. In that case I will leave the parenting responsibility in your capable hands, Henry. Best of luck!" Catherine stomped past him to her own room.  
"Does that mean I can watch my game downstairs?" Henry yelled after her and made Catherine's blood boil. So she turned instantly and rushed past her husband. While passing she gave him a dirty look and stormed back down into the living room.  
"Only over my dead body!"


	4. Chapter 4

The sight that greeted Henry in his kitchen on the next morning was so unfamiliar that he silently remained in the doorway, staring perplexly at the scene taking place. Three of his children were sitting on white barstools, a gigantic pile of pancakes they were hungrily wolfing down in front of them while talking to each other non-stop.  
But the oddest thing was clearly his wife Catherine who stood in front of the stove, right in the middle of a mess of pans, bowls and ingredients, baking strangly deformed pancakes.  
When Francis started pulling his younger brothers leg she turned to face her children and gave them a proud, almost happy smile.  
In her custom-tailored costume and vertiginous high heels she looked oddly out of place even though the image of a mother preparing breakfast for her children was the most natural one in the world. Today, she had pinned up her long red-blonde hair except for a few strands that gently framed her beautiful, flour powdered face.

Normally Rosalie was in charge of preparing meals for the Valois-Medici family, as both Catherine and Henry lacked any culinarily skills.

But this memorable sight reminded him of a time when a very obviously pregnant Catherine had lovingly prepared malformed pancakes for her three children and her husband every day. These pancakes weren't smiling as intended but made terrible grimaces which led to general amusement. Scary-Cakes their kids had called them.

He hadn't thought about these carefree moments for a long time. They had been happy back then. Even without a multi-million dollar company and a luxury villa in the best neighborhood of Seattle. He only had to look into the faces of his children and his beloved wife to feel like the richest man in the world. A kiss from his Kitten had always been enough to give him new confidence and strength for another day of hard work.

But these times were long gone. Irretrievably obliterated this one fateful night in a dark parking garage that had not only broken his former Catherine but had also destroyed their marriage.

Henry cleared his throat in an attempt to shake off these haunting memories. He tried to put on a neutral expression and entered the kitchen with a cheerful "Good morning, family".  
While the children did not seem to be bothered by his unusual presence at a family gathering, Catherine on the other side gave him a suspicious look.

With a wry smile on his face he stepped behind her to look over her slim shoulders at the pans, where golden-brown pancakes were waiting to be turned. So he reached over her and took care of the first pancake. That's when his arm brushed her hip. This touch made his wife jerk around to look up at him with those big, hazel eyes. The seductive scent of her expensive perfume mixed with the smell of sweet pancakes reached his nostrils. The urge to touch her was suddenly so overwhelming that Henry's fingers tightened around the spatula.

"How about I'll finish these so you can have breakfast now?" he whispered close to her ear. Meanwhile he reacted so violently to her nearness after his brief journey into the past that his body began to vibrate.  
Suddenly unable to control himself, he slowly raised his hand and gently wiped the flour off her cheek. The expression on her face could only be interpreted as confused.

"Dad's right Mum, eat something", their eldest cut right through the strange spell between them, causing Henry to drop his hand once again. To regain control over his electrified body he took a step back. Henry cleared his throat, took a new plate out of the cupboard and arranged three pancakes on it for her.

"La voilà! Bon appétit", he said cheerfully while gently shoving his wife towards the high table and his kids.  
Henry started to whistle while he gave the remaining dough into the pans and looked over at his family. A feeling of regret overcame him as he watched them.

What in the name of god had happened in the years that lay between his happy memories and this morning? How could their children have grown up so fast? He caught himself starring at Catherine.

She had changed and was no longer the young, carefree girl he had met over 20 years ago. She was still undeniably beautiful, the years had been kind to her and he mused that the maturity she had now accomplish in her early forties suited her extremely well. Likewise the soft female curves she could'n get rid of after giving birth to Claude. He knew that Catherine was mourning the slim figure she had before her four pregnancies but he loved every feminine curve of her.  
She was still able to turn men's heads, perhaps now more than ever. This fact still didn't leave him cold, no matter how much they had abalienated over the years.

This morning, however, he felt that the emotional and physical distance that had gradually grown between them had decreased a bit. Or he became sentimental in his old age.  
Absently he turned the last pancakes and took a seat at the table to have his own breakfast a short while later.

Francis who actually had his own apartment Downtown but had offered to drive Charlie to school today, shooed his brother out of the house a few minutes later. Claude left by and by so that apart from him only Catherine remained at home. That by itself was rather atypical for her. Usually her working day started at the crack of dawn. At least that's what he assumed as she normally was out of the house by the time he tumbled out of his bed.  
"How come you're still around?" He couldn't resist asking although he tried to keep his tone light as to keep it from sounding like an attack.  
"A late appointment," she just said and started to clean up the mess they had left on the counter.

Henry watched her in confusion while she put plates, bowls and cutlery in the dishwasher.  
"An external appointment?" He probed, not knowing why he was suddenly so deeply interested in her daily routine.  
Clearly annoyed by his interrogation, she stopped in her motion and gave him a skeptical look.  
"A private one. What's up Henry? Since when do you show any interest in what your family is doing the whole blessed day?" Shaking her head, she put more crockery into the machine and then went over to him to grab his plate as well.  
"There's no law against asking. Or wondering", he shot back at her and got up to hand her his emptied coffee mug. She put it in the dishwasher and raised her eyebrow questioning.

"Wondering? What about?"  
"Why a workaholic like you suddenly seems to have a private life."  
"I have whatever I want to have, Henry. And it's a doctor's appointment!" She hissed at him angrily and closed the dishwasher more violently than necessary.  
"A doctor's appointment? You don't look ill." Thousands of thoughts suddenly flashed through his mind and he let his observing eyes glide over her body one more time.  
"Oh dear Lord Henry, we're talking about my biweekly therapy appointment," she snarled in annoyance and hurried up the stairs with clicking heels.

Whith a perplex expression on his face her husband stared after her. Catherine was still receiving therapeutic treatment on a regular basis? Even after so many years?


	5. Chapter 5

On that morning Catherine arrived shortly after ten o'clock at the company's parking lot, which was uncommonly late for her. Henry's Mustang already occupied the right CEO parking space. She parked next to him and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror, her heart beating wildly.

Today's therapy session had upset her more than usually wherefore she hadn't raised her insuperable defensive walls yet. Hence she felt emotionally damageable as well as vulnerable. The fact that she was in a parking garage made her distraught condition even worse, even though this car park was under video surveillance and her allocated space was right in front of the elevator.

She recollected her deep-breathing exercises Doris had taught her years ago to calm herself down and master her inner turmoil.  
When she finally sensed that she had nipped her arising panic in the bud after a few minutes, she opened her eyes once again and checked her reflection in the mirrow.

Her carefully applied make-up covered the paleness underneath but could not hide the tormented expression in her eyes. To calm her fluttering nerves she put some more lipstick on and applied rouge on her cheeks.  
"Okay, okay, I'm ready," she mumbled to herself but still checked the contents of her handbag in search for her lachrymatory agent before she looked around on alert. Only then Catherine opened the door and hurried to the elevator as fast as possible without appearing rushed.

She hated feeling helpless and insecure. That was one of the reasons she had stopped her therapy a year after the attack.  
At that time she had put all her energy into working on their business and building it up, tirelessly making Val-Sec what it was today – a world-wide operating and incredibly successful company.  
She had suppressed the attack, neglected her children as well as her husband while burying herself deeply into work.  
Because only then had she been able to blank out all the terrible thoughts and feelings that would otherwise dominate her whole self mercylessly.

A traditional form of repression that had taken its toll several years later. Something she had to learn the hard way.  
Because her sleep disorder along with nocturnal nightmares and anxiety had dramatically worsen over the years until she had not been able to go to sleep without taking strong sleeping pills or tranquilizers. So she had acted on the advice of her worried doctor and resumed her therapy.

Over time she had been able to reduce the usage of sleeping pills to a less worrisome level. In addition the intervals between her panic attacks had increased as well. The nightmares, however, were still her regular nocturnal visitors. In today's session they've talked about marriage in general and her complicated relationship with Henry in particular like they've done so many times before. A tiring topic that exhausted her again and again.

Henry and herself had already given up on their marriage despite the feelings she still may have for her husband. Why Doris insisted nonetheless on analyzing every dispute, each clash of wills to the smallest detail was a mystery to her.  
Probably she wasn't able to make head nor tail of this explosive relationship no more than Catherine herself. But unlike Doris, she had already resigned from it.  
Too much had happened, too much stood between them. Henry's sense of guilt, her inability to give him what he needed, his affairs - just to name a few of their differences.

There flew still some sparks between them, sparks that would burn up their explosive emotions in out-of-control discussions that often resulted in hot, mindblowing sex. Nevertheless they both knew that a normal, healthy relationship was simply not possible anymore. At least not for them.

Catherine scolded herself a fool and tried to shake off these unpleasant thoughts. In less than thirty minutes she had a first meeting with Mary Scott. A young European and sole heir who planned to sell the emerging company of her recently deceased parents. The innovative concept of this small enterprise that brought together new security concepts and private clients with the aid of a custom-designed app would broaden their portfolio quite nicely. And the fact that the protracted development work of creating an own app would be superfluous was an added bonus for Val-Sec.

Charlotte, her personal assistant and general drudge, was already awaiting her in her office, a freshly brewed coffee in her hand. Catherine accepted the cup with a grateful smile and slipped out of her coat.  
"How are things?", she wanted to know right away.  
"Everything's under control. Francis and Bash have already mad themselves familiar with Scott's financial records as well as the technical details." Charlotte reported and hang up Catherine's coat while the CEO turned on her computer and took a first cautious sip.  
"That's a good one, but it's not my coffee," she said shortly thereafter, looking confused at the cup in her hands. Charlotte nodded.  
"Yes, our machine is broken. I have already commissioned the repair service of the manufacturer, but it obviously takes some time. This coffee is from downstairs." Catherine nodded absently.

"Anything else?", she wanted to know when she realized that her assistant made no move to leave the room.  
"Well, there actually is something else. Or someone. Kenna Albert." Catherine reached for the personnel file that was handed to her and skimmed the thin folder.  
"I see. No significant qualifications but a pretty face. She is responsible for our employee survey project?" Sighing, she closed the file again. When would Henry stop offering jobs or in Kenna's case internships to his little playthings? "I'll take care of it. Thank you, Charlotte."  
With these words she dismissed her assistant.

This Kenna person was not the first affair that Henry had tried to place in their company. And certainly not the last one.  
Catherine had stopped counting how many of them she had already fired behind his back. He had complained on behalf of few of them, others he had never mentioned, maybe he didn't even notice. She couldn't rule out the possibility that she had even done him a favor by getting rid of them in cases where the little bitches got too clingy. Kenna was just another bimbo whose future plans would be smashed under the sole of her highheels.

The conference with Mary Scott took place in one of the large meeting rooms. Besides the beautiful European and her lawyer also her son Fancis and Herny's firstborn Sebastian were present. The eyes of both young men instantly widened upon the arrival of the dark-haired beauty and Catherine shook her head in irritation when Francis started to stutter while introducing himself.

The girl made an overall intelligent impression, though overburdened with the whole situation. Catherine wondered if she was even ready to sell her parents inheritance yet.  
The female CEO let herself be led by her good instincts and after the first twenty minutes the younger woman lost her shyness. When Mary laughed at one of her tartly remarks, Catherine caught her son staring at her open-mouthed. But on the other hand the European also seemed to take a liking to her son. Time and again her gaze wandered over to the blond young man and just as often she shyly brushed her long hair out of her pretty face.  
Bash seemed mesmerized as well but at least he remembered his role in this business meeting and questioned Mary about the technical details.

Mary had obviously done her homework and contrary to Catherine's expectation she was very familiar with all matters. So the older woman ended their first round table talk with what she hoped was an open smile and shook the European's hand.  
"Mary, it was a great pleasure meeting you. I would love to invite you to lunch but unfortunately my next appointment is already in ten minutes. Francis, why don't you accompany Mary to lunch?"  
She gave her eldest son a meaningful look.  
"Yes, absolutely!", he agreed right away. His facial expression however didn't reveal if he understood the intention behind her suggestion. She could only hope that Francis would not be hormone but job-driven during lunch.

A bit later after she had said her goodbye to the young people, Catherine waited impatiently for the elevator. When the doors slid open she was suddenly facing the woman who currently warmed her husband's bed.  
"Kenna Albert, right?" She asked with a fake smile and scrutinized the girl more closely. Long,shiny brown hair, a beautiful face and a slender yet feminine body. She wore a wide and dainty dress with embroidered flowers and a ridiculous headband.


	6. Chapter 6

"Yes, ma'am," the little floozie answered uneasily.  
After all she seemed to know who had just entered the elevator. Good. Catherine continued to assess her in silence, whereupon Kenna began to nervously move from one leg to the other.  
On the sixth floor the elevator opened with a soft ringing tone. When she stepped out, Catherine noticed out of the corner of her eye the relieved expression on the face of the other woman.  
"A word, Kenna," she demanded without looking at the girl and determinedly went into her office where she left the door open.

Catherine barricaded herself behind her desk and let her gaze glide over the younger woman once again as soon as she'd entered the room. Her silent pattern seemed to unnerve Kenna, as did her wolfish smile.  
"How is it going with the employee surveys preparations?" She inquired straightforward after several seconds of silence had passed between them. Catherine consciously decided not to offer a seat to Henry's little slut.  
"Um, actually pretty good," Kenna nervously managed to answer all the while playing with the silver bracelet she wore around her left wrist. Probably one of Henry's gifts.

"Really? How come I did not receive the preliminary questionnaire yet?" Catherine slowly closed the noose that the young woman had placed around her own neck due to her negligence.  
"Oh, well, because I'm not finished yet. There is not much left to do but you have to understand that I first have to familiarize myself with all divisions in order to pinpoint the respective weak points and then include them in the questionnaire." Kenna, who was obviously pleased with her answer, beamed at Catherine as if she expected a praise for her good work.  
"As far as I know you are only responsible for the preparation of the questions based on the template you have been provided with and not for a detailed problem analysis. Because - technically speaking - that's exactly the very reason we're preparing an employee survey in the first place." Catherine raised an eyebrow and looked at Kenna provocatively.  
"Well, I thought I could play a greater part in this survey. After all, the mere questioning is a task..."

At this point, the female CEO interrupted the younger woman abruptly.  
"A task for interns who are expected to do exactly what they are told to do and not what they think they should do. This company only operates as good and successfull as it does because everyone knows where their responsibilities and task panes lie. There is no room for bumptious little upstarts who are still wet behind their ears. You were entrusted with one simple, well-defined assignment, Kenna. A task you haven't fulfilled until now.  
An internship in a company like ours is a huge opportunity. One you obviously do not appreciate. So unfortuntely I don't see any possibility of further collaboration, Kenna. I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to pack your things and leave. Now."

Catherine slowly rose and circled her desk. Kenna just stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring at her in utter shock.  
"Well, I think that would be all then," Catherine said and pointed at the door in a resolute manner.  
"But ... you cannot fire me! Henry ... I mean, Mr. Valois has personally employed me, he's certainly going to object if you fire me now," the stupid whore stammered and induced Catherine to build herself up right in front of the young woman.  
"I'm afraid you've slept with the wrong CEO. I am the one being responsible for all personnel matters in this company, not Henry. And now, get out of my sight or I'll have you kicked out by our security staff, Kenna." Catherine snarled and the sharpness of her words made the girl take flight immediately.

With a triumphant smile Catherine sat back down at her desk and tossed Kenna's file into the bin, entirely complacent and pleased with herself.

Thirty minutes later her office door was torn open and Henry stormed into the room, uninvited and quite visibly angry. Catherine who was currently in a telecom, pressed the mute button on her phone and looked at her husband in annoyance. She could already guess what or more accurately who had upset him this much. So the little bitch had wrapped him so tightly around her little finger that he actually descend to bother her personally on Kenna's behalf.

"Catherine, this behaviour is inacceptable" he stated firmly. She just sighed theatrically.  
"Exactly! Knock if you want to come in. I'm right in the middle of a conference", Catherine told him while playing the clueless.  
"You know very well what I'm talking about. Usually I never interfere with personnel matters, but this time..."  
Catherine cut him off.  
"I would rather call it complete lack of interest. Henry, this will have to wait. As you can see, I don't have time for your childish games."  
To demonstrate that she was serious about it, she unpressed the mute button and commented on a statement one of the conference attendees had made.

Her husband rounded her desk, leaned over his wife and said in a firm and resolute voice:  
"Excuse my interference, but unfortunately I have to alienate my wife for a matter of utmost urgency. She will call you back." Then he ended the conversation by simply hanging up.  
Catherine stared at him dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open, before she rose and glared at him angrily.  
"How dare you interupt an important tel-co with Smith & Millers like this? Do you have any idea how annoyed the senior partner was about our erroneous implementation of their new project and how long it took me to pour oil on troubled water and to convince him to give us another chance to prove ourselves?" Her indignation was written all over her face and Catherine had a good mind to wring her husband's neck.

"Nothing you can't fix. Later. Now we have to talk about one of your personnel decisions you've made without consulting me first." Catherine rolled her eyes, feeling irritated. She knew where his sudden interest in Human Resources came from. How could Henry only put his slut's selfish needs above the concerns of their customers?

"Are you out of your mind?!" She screamed and pushed him back angrily to create some distance between them.  
"Why? I just ask you to discuss some personnel matters – on a factual basis and without yelling. Do you think that's possible? Kenna Arnold did nothing wrong. And she needs the job. The poor girl was in tears."  
"Factual?" Catherine's voice cracked with anger. "Are you kidding me?! Let me clarify one thing: You are right, she did nothing wrong - but only because she did nothing at all! Niente. And lazy, inefficient employees - you'll certainly agree with me on that point - have no future with Val-Sec. Not even when they sleep around and fuck their manager. And her name is Albert, Henry, not Arnold."

After she had given vent to her annoyance, Catherine went straight to the door and held it open for her husband. For her this conversation was clearly over.  
"Catherine, why is my affair suddenly such a big issue for you? I thought we... "Henry started to question but his wife interrupted him brusquely.  
"For Christsake, Henry. You can fuck whoever you want to fuck. But stop offering your bed bunnies a platform here. Please be professional for once and separate your private shit from work-related matters."

"Just like you? An ice queen through and through, whether here or in our...", she did not let him finish his sentence but raised her right hand to his chest and pushed him with full force towards her door.  
"Don't you dare, Henry," she hissed, feeling a rush of anger seize her and shake her body.

"Are you crazy?" The surprise and affright on his face gave her some satisfaction. She watched Henry raise his hands as if he wanted to grab her. Then all of a sudden he stopped his hands motionless in the air as soon as he realized what he was about to do. His hesitation elicited Catherine a bitter laugh.  
"Go. Just go, "she murmured and the thought that he saw nothing but a victim in her, pierced her heart like an icy thorn. A victim that would shatter into a million pieces at any rough treatment, any intimate touch, crippled by fear. Maybe he wasn't even wrong. She was the ice queen. The thought that she was made of nothing more but ice and an all-consuming frostiness crossed her mind actually quite often.  
"Catherine..." This time, a simple wave of her hand was all it took to silence Henry. Without another word he turned and left the room. He quietly closed the door behind him.

A strange sound escaped her throat. Half a sob, half a laugh.  
"You abject coward," she whispered after him. She did not even know why she wished for him to not draw in his horns just once but rather burst through her defensive wall that she had erected between them in her desperate helplessness.


	7. Chapter 7

Catherine had some difficulties concentrating on her work after the scene her husband just made. She had to straighten out the situation with Smith & Millers and make a new appointment with her legal advisor regarding the intended buyout of the Scott company. She also had to do the planning for the festivities for their upcoming company anniversary. Things like these always tended to fall to her responsiblities as Henry wouldn't give it another thought. In addition, countless e-mails were awaiting her in her inbox.  
After some short consideration she started with informing Richard that he had to hire a new intern for the employee survey project. Preferably someone of a male nature.

Catherine swallowed her pride and called a very angry Walter Smith. She had to eat some humble pie and butter him up before he was even willing to continue their business.

Half an hour later and with torn up nerves, the female CEO left her office to grab herself a much needed cappuccino. Charlotte, looking up at her boss, shook her head with regret.  
"I'm sorry Catherine, but unfortunately the machine is still out of order. They most likely need to replace it as the technician couldn't find what's wrong with it."  
Catherine groaned in agony.  
"Then bring the one from our development division up here until they send a replacment," she decided without hesitation. Henry and his people could go and get normal filter coffee from other departments. She needed a fully automatic bean-to-cup coffee machine up here for their visitors and customers.  
Charlotte nodded and immediately reached for the phone to organize the exchange while Catherine went back to her office.  
Half an hour later her assistant brought her a freshly brewed cappuccino that was lightly sprinkled with cocoa powder.

It took another ninety minutes for her door to be torn open once again. Her enraged husband stormed into the room, his face blushed with anger. She instantly knew what had brought him up here.  
"What's that again?" He snapped at her and this time his wife decided against feigning ignorance.  
"Would you just snap out of it? That's only temporary." She looked up at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She even put on a conciliating smile.  
"I couldn't care less."  
"Fine, let Charlotte brew and drag myriads of coffeepots from downstairs in order to serve all our public business," she suggested sarcastically and leaned back in her chair in annoyance.  
"Sounds good to me. After all that's what she get's paid for."

Catherine rolled her eyes at this scabrous remark and slowly rose from her chair.  
"Henry, I'm done arguing with you. Come get your coffee here for all I care but don't waste my time. I have my next meeting in exactly ten minutes."  
"Then let me explain you something as quickly and easy as possible so it fits into your busy schedule: your broken machine, your problem! My machine stays downstairs!"  
"No, it stays here for the time being."  
Henry circled her desk and only came to a halt when his nose nearly touched hers.

"Au contraire and that's final. Maybe I would have even lend it to you. All you had to do was ask nicely. But as far as I can tell that's something you're not even capable of. Correct me if I'm wrong, Catherine." The provocation that flashed from his eyes fueled the rage that rapidly spread within her belly.  
"A waste of effort for the narcissistic, selfish and irresponsible ass you are. Stronzo!" She hissed, not backing away even for a millimeter. Meanwhile poisonous arrows shot right out of her eyes and aimed at Henry's direction.

"Hah! But I am an ass with a coffee machine!" He yelled at her and reached for the handset of her phone. With his other hand he dialed an internal number. By doing this he trapped Catherine between her desk and his hard body."Simon? Move your lazy butt over to the sixth floor. You need to bring our coffee machine back down ... Yes, now! When else?"  
After hanging up he stopped short in the same pose for a few seconds, staring down at his wife with an indefinable expression on his face. "Are there any other decisions you've made without my knowledge you want to tell me about, darling?"

Catherine slammed his arm out of her way with clenched teeth and freed herself to put some distance between them.  
"Go to hell, Henry," she screamed as she rounded her desk and for the second time that day she opened the door for him and pointed out at the hall.  
With an insolent, almost happy wink he walked past her and even found the gall to pat her behind lightly.  
"You'll have a nice day as well."

Shaking with rage she slammed the door shut behind her departing husband but changed her mind a split second later and tore it open again.  
"Go get a new coffee machine! Now!" She yelled in Charlotte's direction.  
On her desk her cell phone gave a low signal tone to remind her of her next meeting. She grabbed her mobile and laptop in annoyance and headed for the elevator whose doors were just closing in front of her. Quickly she put her arm inside and the doors slid open once again.  
"Welcome on the way straight to hell, kitten," her husband's ironic words greeted her from inside the cabin.


	8. Chapter 8

Henry who was casually leaning against the wall of the elevator, let his gaze wander over his still furious wife. Catherine's cheeks were slightly flushed with heat and some strands had come loose from her pinned up hair.  
His eyes glided down to her breasts that were invitingly outlined under her white silk blouse and raised with each breath she took. He needed to mobilize all his willpower to tear his eyes away from her boobs. Henry turned his attention to her legs instead. It amazed him time and again how a woman as short as Catherine could have such fantastic and well-proportioned legs.  
Slowly he let his gaze wander up her body once again until he finally met her eyes. A veritable firework of emotions exploded behind these expressive windows to her soul. But the prevailing emotion was quite obviously anger.

"What?!", she hissed in his direction as soon as she noticed him wordlessly staring at her.  
Henry pointed at the bar of buttons on the right side.  
"I'm just wondering whether you're going to decided which floor you want to stop at. And I can't get past the fact how incredibly beautiful you are when you're angry."  
"That's none of your bui... excuse me?!" When the meaning of his words got to her, Catherine stared at Henry in bewilderment and shook her head as if this gesture could simply undo his compliment.

Although he knew that it was a stupid idea, he still took a step towards her, reducing the distance between them until he felt Catherine's hot breath brushing his neck. He simply could not fight the desire that surged up in him as soon as he looked at his wife being so full of life, likewise angry and fiery. Anger was an emotion he knew only too well. This was something he could handle. And nothing excited him more than seeing that fiery blaze light up in Catherine's hazel eyes.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. The next thing Catherine knew, was him reaching for his wife and pulling her closer. Before she could even mutter a protest, Henry pressed the emergency stop with his fist and just a split second later his quivering lips conquered hers. After what seemed like hours he wrested her laptop and her phone from her grasp and carelessly put them on the floor.

Without wasting any precious moment he straightened up and looked at his breathtakingly beautiful wife. Her breathing was quick and shallow as she licks her red lips, waiting for his next move, her own expression full of passion and pent-up desire. So he lunged at her once again to kiss Catherine like there's no tomorrow. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, willingly opening her lips to allow his probing tongue entrance. Henry did not hesitate but aggressively took possession of what she was willing to give him and burried his hands in her soft hair.

"Henry," Catherine panted an eternity later, trying to catch her breath. He didn't release her but pushed her backwards instead until her back hit the wall of the elevator. Determined his fingers brushed from her chin down to her neck. He paused at the bottom of her blouse, building up the tension until he slid his hand under the soft fabric and started kneaded the base of her right breast.

When a slight groan escaped her throat, he interpreted that as her approval and kissed her again. Meanwhile his hand tugged at the buttons on her blouse. A second later his fingers slid over her lace covered breasts. He greedily opened the front clasp of her bra and teasingly circled one nipple until the little bud puckered up for him. His tongue kept teasing hers and when he threatened to come undone with pleasure, he buried his teeth in Catherine's lower lip and bit down softly. As a result her body bucked up and she inevitably pressed herself against him, causing his throbbing member to twitch in his slacks. Henry could no longer suppress the urge to rub his pelvis against her lower abdomen.

"I want you," he growled with growing excitement and started pushing her skirt up to stroke her silky thighs.  
"Henry," she whispered helplessly and trembled with lust when her husband caressed her mons. "That's not exactly a good idea, Henry. We ... oh my god ... we're in the office."  
Henry made a sound that was half a laugh, half a moan.  
"Actually we're in an elevator, kitten," he corrected her, using his second hand to tear apart the thin nylon pantyhose just beneath her crotch. He stifled her protest with a kiss.

Then he pushed her panties aside and teasingly stroked her labia all the way up to her clit. He rubbed over the little bud of nerves with slightly increasing pressure until Catherine moaned and opened both his belt and pants with eager hands. She brushed down his trousers along with his boxer shorts and his throbbing member jumped to her attention. Now it was Henry's turn to moan with pleasure.

With one hand he grabbed Catherine's right thigh and jerked her leg up. His other hand that was still circling her clit went lower to check her readiness. His index finger pushed her labia aside and slid into her slick opening while her hands dug themselves into his hair.  
"Mhm, Catherine," he groaned and positioned his erection in front of her entrance. He paused for a moment, searching in her eyes for any sign that she wasn't ready for this – for him. But all he saw was unbridled desire and naked lust.  
So he slammed into her with one single, violent thrust that made them moan in unison. He couldn't muster the strength to grant her much time to get used to his size and when Catherine's fingernails scratched his tender neck, all restraints died away.

He fucked her faster, pressing her small body violently against the wall of the elevator with each thrust. Her tight walls pulsed around his penis and Henry bit down on the soft arch of her neck in a vain attempt to cut back his desire. When his wife cried out starteled, he apologetically licked over the previously maltreated skin with his tongue, never slowing down the speed of his thrusts.

When a well-known tingling sensation announced his approaching orgasm, Henry buried his hand between their bodies to put some slight pressure on her pulsing clit.  
It didn't take long till his wife was torn away by a wave of lust – her eyes closed, her mouth open and an ecstatic expression on her beautiful face.  
Her quivering body twitched several times while her vaginal walls contracted so tightly around his penis that Henry let out a cry of purest pleasure and exploded inside her with an intensity that made him dizzy.

With a racing pulse and a wildly beating heart he slumped against Catherine and lowered his forehead against hers. Reluctantly he released her leg that immediately slid down his body. He needed a moment before he could trust his wobbly legs once again.

When his slackened penis slid out of her heated body, Henry sighed and silently began to sort his clothes.  
Catherine, quietely cursing in Italian, straightened her bra and buttoned up her blouse, then she gave him an unreadable look.

"What?!" he asked, handing her a handkerchief to wipe away the sticky traces of their union between her thighs.  
"What?!", she hissed back and threw the used cloth against his chest. "Do I really have to explain to you how wrong and morally reprehensible..."  
Henry interrupted the tirade of his angry wife by gently clasping her face with his hands and forcing her to look at him.  
"No, don't go there, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this, Catherine," he said in a calm voice, running his thumb lovingly over her cheeks.

It abashed him as much as it shocked him that his wife felt guilty after every sexual encounter they had nowadays. Encounters that were only initialized and dominated by lust and anger and left no room for caresses. No Tenderness they once had willingly shared with each other. A tenderness Catherine no longer could bear.  
Or maybe she just did not want to share that with him anymore. How else could he explain that every sexual interaction with his wife felt more like an affair than his actual affairs?  
When was the last time he and Catherine had made love with each other – sweetly and tenderly in a bed for crying out loud?

He helplessly dropped his hands but still leaned down to steal one last kiss. Catherine however avoided him by turning her head away and pulling her skirt down to straighten it. Then she looked at her watch.  
"Damn it, I'm late. Now I have to come up with an excuse." She cursed indignantly, picking up her laptop and her cell phone.  
"As far as I remember, you already came." Henry knew how stupid it was to keep on angering his wife, but he was a man who did not shy away from a challenge. He simply loved a naughty thrill.

The look Catherine was throwing his way should require an official gun license due to it's mortal effect but Henry did not let her anger intimidate him. Instead he fealessly stroked her redblonde hair behind her ear.  
"Let's discuss this quietly tonight," he said with the sudden desire to end the marital ice age between them. The irritation flashing across Catherine's delicate features was priceless and gave him some hope at the same time.  
"We could go to Panino," Henry suggested. Meanwhile he wondered how many years had passed since the last time they went out together as a couple? Apparently half an eternity.

"Don't be silly." With these words she put down his attempted rapprochement and pushed past him to disable the emergency stop and pressed the button for the third floor. Then she turned her back to Henry while controling her reflection in the partially glazed wall of the elevator.  
"I'm serious." He did not want to acquit himself at this point. Nor watch his wife pulling up her insuperable protective walls that were going to lock himself out once again. Heartfelt he approached her and embraced her small body from behind.  
"Please, baby," he whispered in her ear and kissed her neck with tender care.

When the elevator came to a halt on the third floor and the doors opened with a soft noise, his wife resolutely freed herself from his embrace.  
"Just as serious as you are about Kenna and all your other bed bunnies?" Her biting tone told him that she was by no means ready to give his proposal another thought.  
"It's not my affairs that stand between us and you know that damn well," his voice has lost it's leniency.

"Have we now reached that point again? Okay, then let's just cut the crap and come to the agreement that I'm the one being guilty of our marriage's failure. Shall we, Henry? If you'll excuse me now, please." With a determined expression she pushed past him and stalked out of the elevator with her head held high.  
"How else should I assess this whole mess when you're once again running away, Catherine?", He shouted after her and did not even know why her repeated flight suddenly burdened him so much.

They had lived apart for several years now. Maybe in the same house but worlds apart. So why didn't he want to settle for this status quo now?  
He already guessed the answer. And no matter how often he chewed on this bitter truth, he still loved Catherine.  
Despite or perhaps because of all the terrible things that had happened over the last few years that had disrupted their marriage. This hot-blooded Italian devil of a wife was the love of his life, no matter how often fate had played them a rotten hand and despite all adversities that stood in their way.  
Not even the distance between them and the emptiness Catherine's brutal rape had caused her could change that. How many times had he wanted to turn back time and undo all the pain these two bastards had imposed upon his poor wife.

Did they still stood a chance at happiness?  
But how could he go and make her feel responsible for their disastrous marriage?  
"No, of course it's not your fault alone. But can't you understand how frustrating your constant defensive stance must be for me? Especially after experiences like these. "With his hand he pointed helplessly to the inside of the elevator.

His wife who had already reached the corridor leading to their human resources department paused in the middle of her movement and turned to face her husband.  
"Maybe you just have to learn to let go," she told him in a low, sad voice. He could not bring himself to let her go like that. So Henry followed her out into the hall and gently reached for her right upper arm.  
"Or maybe both of us need to seriously consider whether there are other alternatives besides letting go?" He told her gently but Catherine shook her head insistently.  
"No, Prediletto. It's too late for that. Far too late."  
When she now freed herself from his grip, Henry let her go without further resistance.


	9. Chapter 9

Although Catherine cried out in despair mentally, on the outside she kept on setting one foot in front of the other, looking completely calm, cool and collected. Just until she turned the next corner and left Henry's field of vision. She knew that he would not follow her because she had recognized and accepted the sad resignation that had clouded his otherwise bright eyes, even though it broke her heart.  
Only then did she dare to slow down her pace and lose the rigid posture she had assumed. Her shoulders slumped forward and it took her tremendous strength to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt unable to cope with this overwhelming situation, trapped in a never-ending vortex of lust, despair, pain and helplessness.

Not daring to show her face to anyone in her distraught state, Catherine went straight to the ladies room. She was already late, a few more minutes wouldn't save the situation anyway.

The sight of her reflection startled her. Her hair was tousled from Henry's eager hands, her lipstick completely smeared and the spot on her neck, where her husband had bitten her, stood out prominently from her pale skin. The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger and stared at her with unnaturally dilated pupils.  
"Oh dear God," she mumbled haggardly and moistened a paper towel to dab it over her heated neck and face. Then she gently wiped the smeared edges of her lips with it.  
Catherine pulled the clips out of her hair, ran her fingers through the soft curls and pinned her hair back up as good as possible without having a brush.

Then she looked skeptically at Henry's bite mark. If she completely buttoned up her blouse, the collar would cover the spot, even if this would make her feel uncomfortable for the rest of the day. She hated any form of constriction near her neck. Even the feeling of cloth against her skin seemed to suffocate her at times. Something she was still struggling with since the attack. Therefore, she didn't wear turtlenecks anymore and she could only stand scarves that were bound very loosely around her neck, even in winter. But today she couldn't avoid it.

After she had buttoned up her blouse, Catherine let her eyes glide lower.  
"Damn," she cursed when she noticed three runners in her pantyhose, one of them as wide as a finger. She had no choice but to remove her destroyed nylons and go barelegged.

Right now she felt bedraggled, virtually below par which had nothing to do with Henry and his qualities as a lover, but with herself and her damaged coenesthesia because of the things that had happend to her.

At first Henry and she had given it a try of course. They had tried to carefully rebuilt their intimate private life a few month after the attack – once her physical wounds had healed. Her rape, she corrected herself as this was something she still avoided to call by its right name.

Henry had been sensitive, patient and considerate of her and her fears. He had handed over the wheel to her and she had done nothing but driven their marriage straight up against the wall. Because no matter how much she wished to still be the old and tough Catherine, she had always panicked as soon as his hands had touched anything but her face or her own hands.  
And when she could no longer stand the pressure and fears that relentlessly gnawed at her, she had released Henry from his obligations. She had raised up her walls, presented herself cold and unapproachable and put an end to the inhibited attempts to have sex with her husband.

And she had to give him due for one thing: he had not capitulated and abandoned her right away but had fought for her, their marriage and the continued existence of his family. But her coldness and her aloofness had finally driven him into giving up and ultimately pushed her husband into the arms of many other women.

But roundabout four years ago the well-proven status quo had been lifted when - after a heated discussion where she had actually thrown a plate in his direction - she had jumped his bones and they had liturally been all over each other. So their battle of words had turned into wild, passionate sex on the kitchen floor.

After this experience things had changed significantly. There was always tension between them nowadays. A tension that was sometimes so unbearable intense that it unloaded itself in impossible situations just as now. For only in such an aggressive and angry state, her overactive brain was able to block out all her fears of intimacy and closeness.

And each time coming down to reality hit her like a monster truck. Her first impulse was always to take flight and renewing her protective walls.

What alarmed her, were the decreasing intervals between these encounters from time to time.  
Only a month ago had been the last time they had started off with a disagreement in the living room which of course ended in unrestrained sex on their couch. Luckily none of the children had been at home at that time.

Afterwards she always hated herself for it. For obvious reasons as well for reasons no one else could understand.  
Because this kind of sex, driven only by lust and anger, represented a loss of control. Something she normally avoided at all costs. It represented a betrayal of her own body that could not consciously engage in an exchange of affection but succumbed only to lower impulses and released endorphins.

But this time Henry had behaved in a completely different way. He had made another approach to fix their relationship. And though this approach was partly due to their previous sex, she still believed his words. His emotions had been genuine, open and veritable. Which made her feel worse than usual. How should she interpret Henry's change of heart? What exactly was he hoping for? A resurgence of their broken marriage – heavyly loaded with guilt, pain and helplessness – was absurd.

How the hell did he ever imagine it? Did he assume that she had overcome her trauma after her abuse? No matter how much she wished for it, she simply couldn't.  
But quite obviously Henry thought she had come to terms with it. Why shouldn't he because they had sex in irregular intervals. And why should he believe something else, when her rape happened 12 long years ago? That was enough time to overcome a trauma, at least that's what one ought to think.

Anyhow, she had not overcome it, even though Doris kept telling her that each patient had to follow his own path of healing and that there was no universal key for treating a trauma like hers.  
Catherine on the other hand saw it completely different.  
She interpreted her inability to transcend this experience as a total failure which provoked a frustration that was sometimes unbearable. To reunite with Henry would mean letting him look into the depths of her soul. Something she was not able to do.

In the end his active libido would ruin his intentions sooner rather than later anyway. Henry was a passionate man and sex was very important for him. There were times when they had loved each other almost daily. Better days.  
He would not be able to withstand abstinence for any length of time. How long would it take, first for his thoughts to wander and later on him cheating on her?

Her therapist was the only person she ever talked to about her thoughts and the emotional chaos she was catapulted into each time they had an encounter of that kind. Catherine wondered if she should send Doris a message, but she decided against it. She could not always run to her therapist but had to learn how to handle these crises on her own.

Perhaps her best option would be to postpone her meeting with Richard and focus on composing herself instead. Maybe Charlotte even had a new pair of tights in her desk drawer.

Just when she was leaving the ladies' room, her mobile started to ring. After checking the display, Catherine answered the phone.  
"Charlie, I don't have much time, what do you want?" She asked impatiently while walking towards Richard's office to cancel their meeting.  
"You never have time, Mum. I need my laptop back."  
The female CEO took a deep breath before answering.  
"Charles, did you do what I told you?", She wanted to know and heard her son sough out the kind of reproachful sigh only a teenager could utter.  
"That's totally uncalled for and so not cool, you know?!", her youngest whined. This comment was answer enough to assume that he most likely hadn't lifted any finger at all.  
"You know what? Go and ask your dad. He'll have to decide." Should Henry come to an arrangement with Charlie. He asked for it after all and she had no patience left for any further struggle.  
"Okay, I'm going to call dad. He'll give it back to me for sure." Before his mother could reply, Charles had already hung up on her. Great, most likely Henry would just give in anyway.  
Catherine opened her messenger app and considered warning Henry, but then she decided against it. Should he handle this situation by himself.

When she looked up from her display, Catherine noticed Richard standing in the doorway of his office, probably waiting for her. His gentle yet questioning gaze rested on her.  
"I'm sorry for being late, Richard. It's been a crazy day," she admitted whereupon her personnel manager nodded in understanding. Henry and Richard - both French-born - had met before they had even established Val-Sec.  
Richard had been Henry's best man and Francis' godfather. He has always been a dear friend of their family, even though his relationship with Henry had noticeably turned cold shortly after her husband had started living out his affairs.

"No problem, Catherine. We can postpone our meeting," he offered with a warm smile.  
"That might be a good idea if you don't mind?"  
"No, not at all. You look exhausted." His gentle words surprised her.  
"Nothing a cup of coffee won't fix." She made an inviting gesture and silently asked Richard to accompany her. They walked down the corridor half-way but all of a sudden Catherine stopped and looked up at him.

"Actually I feel more like a cigarette." At this revelation her HR manager paused as well and looked at her in surprise.  
Catherine only smoked when she was stressed out or felt emotionally unstable. And she usually tried to hid it from Henry and her children.  
Richard himself was a social smoker and Catherine's accompanist and complice.

As expected he refrained from any comment but took her laptop instead to deposit it in his office until their return and disappeared to get his cigarettes.

There was a small cafe just around the corner where they ordered a latte macchiato each and took a seat outside on the terrace. Wordlessly Catherine reached into the box Richard offered her and took out a cigarette. Her friend gave her a light and she greedily took a first, deep drag.  
"You know, you can talk to me about..." Richard said but Catherine interrupted him gently.  
"No, I don't want to talk. I just want to switch off my head for a moment and enjoy this fucking smoke," she mumbled and dropped back on to her seat.  
So they just sat there in silence, drinking their coffee and smoking their cigarettes.

"Isn't that Francis over there?" Richards broke the silence and pointed at the main entrance of Val-Sec. Catherine turned her head and looked out for her son. Indeed, her eldest son stood in front of the entry door. Next to him was Mary Scott. The two were obviously engrossed in an intense conversation and had no eyes for their surroundings, just for each other. "Is this his girlfriend?"  
Catherine snorted ungraciously at that question.  
"No, that's his lunch appointment for a planned takeover," she mumbled.  
"That was either a very late, or a very long lunch appointment," concluded Richard after taking a look at his watch.

Over the way Mary was holding out her hand but instead of shaking it, her son merely held it in his own for half an eternity whereupon the European said something that obviously embarrassed Francis, but didn't prompt him to release her hand.  
Then he finally let go of her.  
Mary Scott turned and waved in his direction, wearing a bright smile on her pretty face. She tried to leave but Francis pulled out his smartphone and in turn said something to her.  
Mary turned around, holding up her cell phone as well and closed the distance between them.  
Where they actually exchanging phone numbers besides flirtation?  
Catherine stared at them in bewilderment until Mary Scott hailed a cab and Francis entered their building with a glorified grin on his handsome face. "What the hell is Francis doing?"


	10. Chapter 10

Half an hour and one additional cigarette later Catherine returned to her office. She still didn't feel up to the mark emotionally speaking but in the meantime she had been able to control the inner turmoil Henry had stirred in order to turn her attention back to her workload.  
Charlotte greeted her with an apologetic smile and a list of customer names that were in desperate need of a callback. Sighing heavily, the CEO resumed her work.  
She had to postpone questioning Francis about his lunch with Mary Scott until after work, because no matter how much her curiosity tormented her, there were more urgent things on her agenda right now.

Several hours later Catherine leaned back in her chair, feeling exhausted after a tiring conference call with a new potential key account customer. When she took a look at her watch she was shocked to realize that it was already past 6:30 PM. Grimacing she rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms to loosen the tension in her neck. She marked the last name off her list and made a short note of the next action points for further negotiations.  
For a brief moment she considered starting yet another project but then decided against it. The events of the day had stressed her more than she liked to admit and all she was craving for was a relaxing bubble bath and a good glass of red wine.

She checked her phone for new messages while waiting for her notebook to shutdown. To her uttermost surprise Henry of all people had texted her two hours ago.  
"Kitten, I'll get dinner today. Just let me know when you leave the office. Take care and watch this leadfoot of yours."  
Slightly irritated she stared at the message and read his words a second time. She didn't even know what stunned her most. His offer to get dinner or his mild reproach to drive carefully. Both were rather uncharacteristic for her husband. What the hell was going on?

She categorically ruled out that he planned to do his own cooking.  
For a moment she wondered if he was actually considering to take her out to her favorite Italian restaurant, but she immediately rejected that thought. He knew damn well what she thought about this prosposal and Henry would not waste his energy on a lost cause. That was not like him.  
Presumably the children had forced him to buy them some decent food and after their little roll in the elevator he just wanted to show her that he was willing to get her some dinner as well even though she failed to do the same yesterday evening.

With a queasy feeling in her stomach and as neutral as possible she wrote him that she was on her way now. Her first impulse had been to send him a snappish response but that would only lead to another argument and she had no strength left for that.

She arrived at home half an hour later. The second she got out of her car, a green unmarked van stopped in the driveway behind her and the front door was torn open the very same moment.  
"There you are, perfect timing," Henry exclaimed with a big grin on his face and rushed towards her and the driver. "Everything is already set up. Why don't you go inside, I'll be back in a minute?" He directed her into the house with gentle force. With a perplexed expression she watched Henry accepting a box and handing the man some bills in return. "Here, keep the change."  
"What's going on if you don't mind me asking?"  
"That's our dinner. Come on." Catherine suspiciously followed him into the dining room.

The table was only set for two. Henry had even used the good dinnerware and expensive cloth napkins. Soft candlelight bathed the room in a cosy and dim light. But what irritated her the most was a beautiful bouquet of red roses that adorned the table.  
Perplexed she watched her husband who took several bowls out of the box that was labeled with their favorite Italian's logo. Panino. With great care Henry arranged the food on their plates.  
"Spaghetti alla puttanesca and insalata caprese for Madame. Buon appetito." Catherine stared at the two plates in bewilderment.

She seemed to remember that Panino had taken her favorite pasta off their menu several years ago and as far as she knew they also didn't offer any delivery service. How on earth had he managed to place this special order?

"You didn't feel like going out for dinner... and I thought, well, if you're not willing to go then let's take the food to you. I hope you still like spaghetti alla puttanesca?" Her husband sounded uncertain all of a sudden and looked at her with such a sincere look that striked Catherine at the very heart.  
"Of course, I love them... but Henry, they took this dish off their menu – years ago." At that remark he gave her a broad, almost smug smile.  
"And I just asked them nicely to prepare it for you none the less. Do you want some fresh Parmesan?" She nodded taken aback when Henry questioningly held up a piece of Parmesan and eagerly started to grate cheese over her pasta.  
The flowers, Henry's behavior, this dinner in general - the whole situation seemed surreal.

"What about the children?", she wanted to know.  
"They will eat something in the city with their friends at the expense of their old man and go to the cinema afterwards. Please, enjoy. We shouldn't let the food get cold. Some red wine?" This time he didn't even wait for her answer but poured her a glass of wine instead. "À ta santé."  
Reluctantly she raised hers and clinked glasses with her husband who rewarded her with a big smile.  
"Salute," she mumbled and took a first sip.  
Apparently money was no object to Henry this evening as he had selected one of his very expensive, special quality French wines.

The fine aroma of fresh tomato paired with the tangy cheese rose to her nose and Catherine realized how hungry she was. After putting a shovelful of noodles into her mouth she closed her eyes in pleasure.  
"Good?" Her husband asked with a mischievous grin and tried his own food.  
"I'd forgotten how good this tastes," she confirmed and noticed that a tiny smile fluttered about her own lips. Today was a day full of surprises.

"I'm glad you like it. How was your day?" At that question she lowered the fork she was about to put in her mouth.  
"Is this going to be that kind of conversation? We talk about our jobs, then chat about the weather and our kids in case we run out of other topics? Henry, what's this all about?" With a sweeping gesture she pointed at their festively set table.  
"I was just hoping to spend a quiet and nice evening with my wife. Delicious food, good wine... Can't we just pretend that we're a normal couple? If only for a brief moment?", Henry asked and Catherine did not know how to interpret the intense gaze he was throwing her way.  
"We are far from being a normal couple, Henry." She failed to hide the resignation that subliminally clung to her words.

"Normal or not, Catherine. We ARE married to each other. And I think it's time for both of us to start acting like a married couple once again." Catherine couldn't do anything but stare open-mouthed at her husband after this revelation.  
"I'm pretty happy with the way things are right now," she said, trying to keep her composure and a calm tone. To mentally strengthen herself she reached for her wine glass and took a big gulp.  
"That's bullshit, kitten. You're equally frustrated and annoyed by the situation as I am." Henry wound up some spaghetti on his fork and put it in his mouth. His eyes were constantly focused on her. "I do not want to argue with you, Catherine. Please, dear, eat."

It's been a while since she had last seen her husband being so focused on her and her welfare. She stared at her plate in uncertainty and impaled a black olive with her fork.  
"I don't want to argue either," she confessed and put the olive in her mouth, whereupon he smiled and nodded in understanding.  
"It's nice that we've finally found something we can agree upon."  
"And that is nothing short of a miracle," she sighed and continued to eat.

To her surprise they survived the rest of their dinner without any further foot-in-mouth-disease.  
In fact, she even started to relax a bit and if she was honest with herself, she actually enjoyed Henry's casual banter.  
When she pushed back her plate – feeling stuffed to the gills and utterly satisfied - her husband got up to take the dishes to the kitchen.  
"I hope you left some room for the dessert?" He shouted from the adjacent room.  
"No chance," she refused in agony. Henry said something she couldn't understand and started to rumble noisyly in the kitchen. A short while later he served her an espresso. Her husband still seemed to know her habits quite well.

When he emerged from the kitchen a second time, he held a plate with an amply portion of tiramisu in his hands. With a big grin he placed the desert in font of him.  
"Too bad that you're already done," he said with a rascally smirk and cut out a big piece with great to-do. He delightfully enjoyed his first bite. "Mhmmm!"  
Struggling for self-control, Catherine stirred her espresso while Henry devoured another piece of tiramisu. Her gaze wandered between the plate with her favorite Italian delicacy and Henry's sensual lips where the food disappeared.  
When her husband cut off another piece, Catherine's mouth was already watering.

But instead of eating the next portion himself, Henry offered it to his wife instead. Willingly she opened her mouth and allowed Henry to feed her. When the rich cocoa and mocha flavor exploded in her mouth, a rapturous sigh escaped her throat.  
"Oh dear lord, that's good!"  
"Isn't it?!"

Henry offered her his fork once again, he even teased her for a second but then fed her one more time. The next portion he ate himself but shortly thereafter he offered her the next piece.  
Only after they had polished off the last crumb, Henry lowered his fork and gave her his most handsome smile.  
He refilled their glasses, handed Catherine hers and reached for her hand to lead her to the coach.  
"To us," he raised his glass to her.  
Since she still wasn't sure how to assess this strange situation, she simply stared at him questioningly.  
"What's wrong?" Henry wanted to know but Catherine shook her head, not knowing what exactly was bothering her the most.  
"You tell me", she said.

"If we were a normal couple, I would say: Nothing is wrong, I'm just having a romantic evening with my lovely wife. But we are not normal, kitten, and truth be told, I have no idea what I'm doing here. All I know is that I've enjoyed each second with you and I hope that we can do this more often. Please tell me that it's not too late for us, Catherine."

The brutal honesty of his words was disarming and at the same time his confession made her speechless.  
"I ... Henry ...", she stopped, searching for words, but there was a frightening void in her head while thousands of butterflies started fluttering wildly in her stormach.  
Henry came closer, took away her wine glass and kissed her a second later. His warm hands encircled her face and his fingers stroked her cheeks and chin in a soft caress.  
"Something that feels so good can't possibly be wrong, can it?" He whispered against her lips and gently pushed her into the soft cushions of the sofa.

This time he didn't jump her bones immediately but contented himself with kissing her tenderly and caressing her hands and face with a devotion that brought tears to her eyes. Disappeared was this domineering hunger and lust that always overcame them and automatically resulted in wild, feral sex. No, his kisses were light, almost playful and his touch unbearably tender and soft. Just like it used to be. Just like before...

...before these animals had raped her and robbed her not only of her self-respect but also of her strength and left her bleeding and broken on the filthy floor of a basement garage.  
Her heart began to race wildly when an invisible force pressed down on her chest and slowly drew out her breath. She sensed the familiar feeling of a rising panic rear up its ugly head. With a silent scream on her lips she pushed Henry away.  
"I can't," she laboriously whispered and fled.


	11. Chapter 11

Warning: This chapter contains some sensitive subjects and a storyline that some may consider disturbing. Please consider skipping this chapter if the general subject of rape stresses you. I try to treat this serious subject with as much care and respect as possible.

While Catherine stormed up the stairs she felt the walls close in on her - trying to retain her - and the world began to spin in her head. Solely driven by the feeling of an oncoming panic attack she ran to her bedroom, slammed the door shut and sagged against it with trembling knees. Her heart was racing and threatened to jump out of her chest. An icy chill slowly crept up her body and paralyzed her useless limbs. Trembling all over she pressed one chalk white hand against the other. Catherine tried to control her shallow breathing with the power of despair in a vain attempt to master this forcefully nascenting panic attack.  
But what always sounded so simple and logical in her therapy session, seemed impossible in real life practice. As always when the horror of that fateful day in a dark parking garage threatened to catch up on her.

The reality around her came to a halt, moved to another level of other-worldly existence. She saw nothing, only discerned the sough in her ears, the impotent fear and an all-consuming coldness from deep inside her bones.

And with the panic came the memories. Memories of a hazy day in fall. As clear as if it had only been yesterday. The events of that fateful day had lined up like a string of pearls. A chain of smaller and larger causalities - cause and effect in it's purest form.

Their day had begun at a hectic pace as they had overslept. Nobody had been able to tell who had forgotten to activate their alarm clock but this failure had irrevocably set a chain reaction in motion. Like the first domino that none of them could stop and that had lead her into an unguarded, dark parking garage in the city center at 9:07 AM.

The hectic hustle and bustle of the morning, four whiny children, her insufferable husband who had decided not to accompany her and Charlie to their pediatrician's appointment due to a short-term deadline at work. The kids had been late for school and kindergarten, Henry for work.  
Maybe Catherine would have made it in time to the doctor if she would have arrived a few seconds earlier so that that woman in a blue SUV would not have been able to snatch away the last free parking lot right outside the medical center. But that hasn't been the case so she had to drive around the block several times in annoyance and eventually frequented a cheap, slightly dilapidated parking garage in a back street as not to lose more time. With little Charlie in her arms she had rushed to the practice.

After the check-up she had run some errands and returned to her car. Catherine had strapped Charlie into his car seat and stowed the purchases in the trunk when she had suddenly noticed that she had not yet paid her parking ticket at the pay machine. She had shortly considered unfastening her son and taking him along as not to leave him alone in the car but in the end she had glanced at his small, almost sleeping form and had decided against it. She had rather wanted to leave him in the car for five minutes than disturb him again.  
How would things have gone if she had taken her youngest with her to the pay machine?

On the way to the machine she had noticed the two men for the first time. They had leaned against a wall besides an old van on the other side of the garage and had leered at her in an unsettling, provocative way.  
She had quickened her steps and tried to radiate self-confidence. Ignoring the men, she had paid for her parking ticket and impatiently shifted her weight from one leg to another, waiting for the machine to spit out her change.

"Olà chica bonita."  
With these words, fate had taken its course. She could still remember that the way the smaller of the two men, a Latino, had stared at her, had unnerved her. But at that time she had not yet seen what horror was lying ahead of her. For though rape was terrible and despicable, but it only happened to other women. Not her.

She had found herself in a shady corner between a concrete wall and a massive body not even three minutes later. Her ears were still ringing when she thought about their sardonic, boisterous laughter while she struggled in a futile attempt to fend off their greedy hands. At first their laughter had made her angry. Angry and ready to fight. But when the taller one - a pale guy with foul teeth and horrible body odor - had thrust his fist remorselessly into her face with a stone-cold, dangerous stare, her resistance had died away.

The two men had taken advantage of her disorientation and had wrestled her to the ground. The things that had followed, happened in a blurry fog of pain and shock.  
Hands that first tugged at her clothes, then at her body and her hair. They had pinched, groped and beat her, then spread her legs and abused her numb body. And when the pale creep was finally finished, when she had thought she was over the hump, the Latino had dragged her by her hair, painfully pressed her face down on the cold cement floor and had brutally taken her from behind.

Half an eternity later these animals had let go of her and left their victim on the floor of the parking garage - bleeding and whimpering in pain. With her last strength she had dragged herself to her car where she had barricaded herself in and called Henry drowned in tears.

"Dear Lord," Catherine sobbed and clasped her trembling hands over her mouth. These horrible memories had catapulted her right back into this very garage. She could even smell the exhaust fumes. The sour sweat of one and the cheap aftershave of the other man.  
With shaky fingers she exerted pressure on her temples but the images in her mind's eye wouldn't stop.  
She could even feel their dirty hands on her body.

Catherine crossed her bedroom on wobbly legs and entered the adjoining bathroom. Trembling violently she stripped off her clothes and got into the shower stall.  
Burning hot water pelted down on her and although she was trying hard to rinse away the phantom marks of her tormentors, neither water nor soap were able to convey a sense of getting clean again. Her legs gave way and she sank down in a weak bunch of misery.

Catherine didn't know how long she stayed in that position. She just knew that her entire body was red and burning all over. Her limbs hurt.  
In the meantime the water had cooled down significantly but was still hammering down on her at full tilt. Goose bumps had rosen on her entire body.

With shaky fingers she turned down the tap. A quiver gripped her, followed by a cold shiver that went down her spine. With chattering teeth Catherine stepped out of the stall, wrapped her trembling body in a fluffy, white towel and sat down on the toilet seat. Lost in thought, she toweled off her hair. Only later did she feel strong enough to get up and trust her legs again to support her weight.

She did not know what time it was or how much time had passed. She just knew that she was tired. Bone tired and exhausted. So she put on her satin pajamas and collapsed right into her bed. Neither her wet hair nor the light or the fact that she had not even brushed her teeth could keep her from lying down at this very moment. All she longed for was the sweet nothingness of a dreamless sleep, where to she slipped very quickly thanks to her exhaustion.

But she was not granted with an unstisturbed rest this evening. Soon pictures of torment danced in front of her fluttering eyelids as if they were trying to taunt her. Countless faceless men approached her. They looked threatening and yet she could not move a single muscle to escape. More and more of them surrounded her, silently, menacingly, they came closer and closer, eagerly reaching out for her. Then she noticed that two of the blurry faces slowly started to sharpen. One of them was cheesy and long with devious beady eyes, the other had distinctive features and a dark complexion. And suddenly she was surrounded by her tormentors. All men wore the same two faces and mercilessly grabbed for her.  
"Olà chica bonita."

Panting heavily, Catherine jolted awake. Her heart was pounding wildly and she had a thin film of sweat on her damp skin. She sat up breathing hard, trying to suppress the images of her nightmare that had been both surreal but so frighteningly real at the same time. She know that sleep was out of question now. At least not without some medical aid.  
Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and reached for the small box that contained the strongest sedative she had ever been prescribed.

Holding the pillbox tightly in her hand, Catherine went barefoot down the stairs and into the kitchen. She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, her hands shaking violently. Her breathing was still labored. She fumbled with the lid of the box. Catherine finally succeeded and took out two small pills. With her right hand she reached for the water, but her fingers were shaking so heavily that the glass slipped from her grip and shattered on the hard granite floor. A sea of water and glass fragments spread out at her feet while Catherine sank to her knees with a choked sob and tears welling up in her eyes.

Henry, while lying on his bed and watching TV due to his sleeplessness, sat up in alarm when he heard a loud clangor noise coming from the lower floor. He rose slowly, opened his door and peered outside. Just then Claude stuck out her head as well.  
"Dad?" She mumbled sleepily. "What was that? A burglar?" Henry stepped out into the hallway and noticed that the door to his wife's bedroom was ajar and the light was on.  
"Certainly not, child. Go back to sleep. I'll go downstairs and check on your mum." With gentle pressure he guided his daughter back into her room and ran down the stairs light-footed. The lower floor of the house was dipped in darkness. So he stopped in the hall and listened for a moment. There was no noise whatsoever and he briefly wondered if he had just imagined the clangor but then he heard a soft sobbing.  
Henry silently approached the kitchen. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and listened again. And there it was again, a suppressed sobbing noise.

Henry briefly asked himself how to react to a crying Catherine. Everything in him urged him to turn on the light to see what was going on. Still, he hesitated. But when he reminded himself that she must have broken something and that he was barefoot, common sense prevailed.  
"Catherine?" He asked softly to alert her to his presence and switched on the light.

What he saw shocked him. His wife sat huddled and completely distraughted in front of their kitchen island, splinters of glass and spilled water around her motionless form. He knew that look on her face, though he had not seen it for years. Catherine was trapped in her own world full of fear, panic and despair.

When his wife spotted him, she visibly flinched and frantically started to rise. Henry raised his hands in a placate gesture. Catherine was barefoot just like him and he wanted to keep her from stepping into the shards in her panic.  
"Be careful with the shards," he said, forcing himself to stay calm. In the meantime he had also discovered the pillbox on the counter. What the hell was going on?

His wife stared at him in a way that reminded him of a deer in the headlight. Carefully and slowly as not to startle her he walked over to Catherine and sank down on his knees to meet her stare at eye level and to avoid intimidating her with his size.  
"Are you hurt, Kitten?" Henry used her nickname deliberately. Maybe it would help bringing her back to here and now.  
He let his eyes unobtrusively glide over her sunk down form. From her outward appearance he could see no injury at least. However he suspected that they were dealing with an invisible enemy. "Catherine?" He insisted when she did not respond.  
He felt as if cognizance flickered in her eyes for the fraction of a second, then her eyes glided down her own body as if she actually had to check if she had suffered an injury. Then she barely noticeably shook her head. Finally.

"Okay, that's good. Why don't you hang on while I'll wipe the floor first?" He searched in her eyes for a hint that she understood what he was trying to tell her but she did not respond.  
Henry slid back on his seat of pants - never taking his eyes off Catherine. He blindly opened a drawer and took out a handful of dishtowels. Then he slid back in her direction and started carefully wiping the water aside along with a myriad of shards. He probably didn't get all of them but for the time being it was the best he could do.  
"I'll get you a new glass of water." He straightened up again as slowly as he had gone to his knees, fetched another glass and poured some water. He inconspicuously checked the inscription of the pillbox while doing that.  
If he was not mistaken, this was a sedative. One she regularly took in the first few months after her rape.

He slowly knelt down again and handed Catherine the glass. It took her a moment to react and reach out for it. Only then did he realize that she already held two of the pills in her hand and was about to take both of them.  
"One is enough, dear," he said in a calm but definite tone. Henry knew that this special tranquilizer was a strong one and he didn't want Catherine to overdose in her frightened condition. He had no idea what he was going to do in case she decided to swallow both of them.  
But to his surprise she followed his instruction and contented herself with only taking one pill. Then she washed it down with a big gulp of water.

"I don't want you to see that," she muttered after half an eternity where they just sat there and stared at each other. "To see me like that," Catherine corrected herself.  
And suddenly it began to dawn on Henry that these demons in Catherine, demons he hadn't seen for so many years, still roared and raged deep within her core. It was them preventing his wife from tearing down the wall between them.

He realized what was wrong with Catherine. She had not only pushed him away at that time, she had clearly repressed what had happened to her and - as he now assumed - had never been able to overcome it. And all these years he hadn't even noticed that something was wrong with her.  
Apparently the events in the elevator and their dinner had triggered her current condition. It scared him to see his proud and strong Catherine like that.  
"It's still haunting you, isn't it? A wife should always be able to entrust her husband with a secret of this magnitude. So I wonder what a terrible excuse of a man and husband I must be, being blind t..." Before Henry could dissolve in self-hate, Catherine interrupted him gently.

"It's not your fault. I'm... broken." At the end of her sentence his wife paused briefly as if searching for the right word.  
"There are many words that could describe you. Stubborn, headstrong, clever, a fighter, argumentative, beautiful, strenuous - I could go on forever. But broken never comes to my mind. I do not know about you, but I'm too old to sit here on the cold floor. Are you coming to the sofa with me?"

He tried to make his suggestion as casual as possible. He also made no attempt to touch her. He had experienced Catherine once or twice during a panic attack and she had always reacted badly to being touched in such a fragile state. So he got up with a soft groan but stayed in the kitchen to see if she was willing and able to rise. At first she seemed to be thinking about his suggestion, then to his relief she got up as well.  
"There might still be some splinters here, try to make a big step," he instructed, stepping aside so she would not involuntarily collide with him.

With some distance he followed Catherine into the living room and reached for the blanket to hand it to her. She seemed almost surprised by the gesture, grabbed the blanket and wordlessly curled up into a small ball on their couch. Apparently the pill had already started to work because Catherine seemed less agitated, rather exhausted.  
"Does that happen often?" He ventured to ask at some point and involuntarily held his breath.  
"No, it... sometimes, Henry." While forming an answer she had obviously decided to tell him the truth instead of a pretty little lie.  
"That's why you've resumed your therapy. I'm a complete idiot."  
"No, you just did not want to know and I did not want you to know."

She was right, the last few years they had just tried to ignore each other and he had failed to pay attention to any sign that would have revealed that something was wrong with his wife. Still. She had banished him from her private life years ago, denied him any insight into the progress of her mental healing and he had never attempted to obtain clarify of the real state of her recovery. He had always assumed that there was nothing a Catherine de' Medici would not be able to cope with. He was wrong.

That was a long, difficult chapter with a difficult context.  
I came to the conclusion that Catherine would only be able to really focus on getting better after a breakdown. And I had the feeling that it was time for Henry to find out what's going on with his wife.


	12. Chapter 12

A dark depressing heaviness lay itself upon Catherine, filling her dizzy mind with wafts of mist. It dispelled her fear and buried that paralysing panic under a veil of oblivion. Catherine felt her body sinking deeper and deeper into the soft upholstery of the sofa, felt the comforting warmth of the blanket surrounding her like a protective cocoon - helping to block out all bleakness of the world.  
"I'm sorry," Henry's gentle words cut through the mist what prompted Catherine to open her eyes and seek her husband's gaze in the dimly lighted room.  
When was the last time Henry had apologized to her for anything while sounding so sincere and penitential?  
"For what exactly?" She asked, staying in her lying position.

Henry, who sat cross-legged on the carpet next to the couch, looked up at her and scooted a bit closer with a sad expression on his face.  
"For way too much. I don't even know where to start."  
She had rarely seen her charismatic as well as energetic husband so helpless, eaten away by self-reproaches. A sight that broke her heart.  
"Maybe at the beginning?", she suggested drowsily, trying to sound encouraging.  
"Sometimes I feel like there is no beginning and no end, Catherine. We are constantly moving in an endless circle and I'm afraid I've lost my orientation meanwhile. But my heart is bleeding when I see you like this. When I see what those bastards did to you and - even if it sounds selfish - what they've also done to me. It's not nice to be reminded of what kind of a cold-hearted asshole I tend to be."

His last words caused Catherine to straighten up. It hurt her in an unexpected way to hear her husband speak so badly of himself. After all, it was not him who had raped her. Even in her mind she still recoiled from using the word rape. Timidly she shook her head. Partly to shake off the unpleasant thoughts, partly to show him that she disagreed.  
"Only sometimes, Henry." She paused for a moment, searching for the right words before continuing. "But not today. Today you behaved unexpectedly... sweet."

"What I've said to you in the elevator, Kitten, I really mean it."  
His affirmation made her shy away from him. She just wasn't ready. Neither to hear words of this kind from him, nor to analyze their meaning or even imagining what impact this might have on their broken marriage. As if guessing her thoughts, Henry held up his hands in a disarming gesture. "I'm not telling you this to put pressure on you, rather to show you that there is still some hope for us. You alone choose WHEN or even IF we're going to fix our marriage, Catherine. But most importantly you have to get better and even though I know that you won't like to hear it – but you're going to need help. Professional help."  
Slowly as if moving in slow motion Henry reached out for her and he only stopped his movement mere millimeters before he could actually touch her.  
Was it intentional or coincidental that his intention, as well as his words left it to her to take this last, most important step?

Catherine hesitantly raised her hand in his direction until her fingertips brushed his. For a moment she paused until her fingers finally closed around her husband's. The warmth of his skin instantly crept up her arm, spreading his heat slowly but steadily through her body.  
She brought his hand to her lips and placed a gossamer kiss on his knuckles. Then she curled herself up on the sofa and closed her eyes. Still clasping his hand tightly.

She involuntarily recalled the first weeks after her rape. At that time she had hardly been able to endure Henry's presence in their shared bed. She had not only felt helpless and vulnerable but also unfair on her husband who had shown her nothing but love, sympathy and patience. And yet, his closeness had intensified the anxiety attacks and panic she constantly felt. So Henry had gallantly offered to sleep on the sofa as not to unnecessarily increase her agony. He however had spend every night sitting next to her on the floor, holding and stroking her hand until she fell asleep. Only then had he retired to his uncomfortable couch.

"Could you do me a favor?", His deep voice broke the silence and Catherine lifted her head to get a better look at him.  
"What kind of favor?" She asked skeptically but did not let go of his hand.  
"I want you to give your therapist a call tomorrow morning. Please."  
This night turned out to be full of surprises. First he had apologized to her and now he had actually pronounced the word "please"? Since no one knew better than her that she indeed ought to give Doris a call rather urgently, she gave in without a fight.  
"I'm going to call her." Her answer caused Henry to bring her hand to his lips to tenderly kiss the back of her hand in turn.

"Thank you. Do you think you will be able to go back to sleep?"  
The softness of his words touched her.  
"I think so."  
"Would you like to stay here or should I put you to bed?"  
"Put me to bed?" She raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at her husband.  
"Yes, am I speaking so indistinctly?" Henry joked to lighten up the mood.  
"No, it's rather your choice of words that irritates me," she shot back. "But I would actually prefer to sleep in my own bed. Or at least try to."  
Henry nodded, reducing the distance between them.

"Trust me, okay?" He whispered while rising from his seated position. Then he laid her hand he was still holding over his neck. His other hand reached under her knees and his eyes searched for her approval. It was not until she indicated a nod when his right hand moved to her back to pick Catherine up and carefully carry her upstairs.

She knew she could walk herself but at that moment she had neither the strength nor the energy to insist on her emancipation, thus she leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes. For this was the first time in a long time she had the feeling of being able to fully and blindly rely on Henry.

With utmost care her husband put her down on the mattress and gave her a small embarrassed smile. One she timidly returned.  
"Do you need something else?" He asked in a raspy voice whereupon she shook her head.  
At the very same time they reached for her blanket, their hands touching again. His thumb stroked gently over the back of her hand before he released her so she could curl up under the duvet.  
"Thank you." Quite obviously Henry wasn't the only one to swallow his pride on this special night of revelations.

She was surprised that instead of giving her a direct answer he just silently stroked her cheek. Then he nodded and rose. But before her husband could leave the room, Catherine sat up and softly called his name.  
"Henry?" As expected, he turned around immediately.  
"Yes, Kitten?!"  
"Would you mind staying a bit longer?" Her voice sounded terribly uncertain and fragile. She almost regretted expressing her request verbally. But Henry did not hesitate for a second, he merely closed the door, dimmed the light and sat down on the white flokati right beside her bed.  
"No, of course I won't mind." After his assurance she held up her hand and her husband instantly reached out for her.  
"Until I fall asleep?"  
"I'll stay as long as you want me to stay."


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh dear me," Catherine muttered when she looked at her desolate reflection in the bathroom mirror.  
Her skin was unnaturally pale, dark crater-like circles adorned her tired and sleep-glued eyes and her otherwise perfectly styled hair looked like a crow's nest.  
She hadn't slept much last night, but blessedly the last few hours had been free of nightmares and anxiety attacks.

"Catherine?!"  
There was a soft knock at the door that connected the bathroom and Henry's bedroom. Their shared bathroom was actually a walk-through room and separated his bedroom from hers, but during the last years both of them had taken great care not to disturb each other's privacy.  
But the events of the previous night had apparently torn down most of the protective walls she had raised and blurred her carefully drawn boundary lines.  
After a moment's hesitation she moved to his connecting door and opened it.

"Henry?", she whispered, looking questioningly up at him while his critical eyes glided over her form. "Don't. I look awful," she said contritely, being more than aware of his visual examination.  
"You look like someone who had a hard night." Her husband answered and reached for her hand. "Were you able to finally get some rest?"  
She just nodded instead of a direct answer, prompting him to raise her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand like he did the night before.  
"I'm glad. Francis is downstairs and he brought breakfast. Why don't you ready yourself, put on some comfortable clothes and come down so we can have breakfast together? Claude is already on her way but Charlie has a free period this moring and still has some time before he needs to leave."

She was surprised how well he was informed about their children's day routine. And the idea of having breakfast with her husband and sons was beautiful and tempting at the same time. But a scrutinizing look at Henry's expensive Rolex revealed that it was almost half past seven and that there was no time for idleness of this kind. Her first conference call was already scheduled for eight o'clock.  
Henry, who had caught her scrutinizing look at his watch, put his hands on Catherine's shoulders. She automatically looked up at him.  
"Kitten, I've already called Charlotte and..."  
"I beg your pardon? You've called me in sick? Henry!" Catherine stared at her husband in shock but he instantly let go of her and raised his hands in defense.

"No, Catherine. I wouldn't dare. I just called your assistant and asked her to postpone your earliest meetings and that you have an important private appointment this morning. That's why you'll be working from home today. I know how important your work is to you and that you find distraction in it. But Kitten, the most important thing today is that you make an appointment with your therapist. I don't ever want to experience a night like this again."  
The sincerity of his words was reflected in his gentle brown eyes. Eyes that looked at her with an intensity that made turning away impossible. And even though he forbore to verbally reminded her of her promise to finally seek help, his eyes were quite clear for that matter.  
"Neither do I," she whispered abashed and the moment the words left her mouth she realized that they weren't a lame glib platitude to reassure her husband, but the simple truth. She never wanted to find herself in a situation like that ever again.

"This leads me to hope that you're not angry."  
"I am not. Strange but true."  
"Then I'm some lucky bastard. I'll leave you alone now. See you downstairs."  
Henry leaned down and startled her with a tender kiss on her forehead.

Once Henry had left the bathroom, Catherine looked at herself in the mirror. Was she just imagining it, or had the color returned to her cheeks?

Catherine appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes later and took in the smell of freshly toasted bread and coffee. Henry and Francis were sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of the room while Charlie had made himself comfortable on the sideboard. All three looked up when she entered the room.  
"Good Morning."

Being more than aware of three pairs of eyes that studied her, Catherine crossed the kitchen to greet first Francis and then Charlie. The latter turned away from her in annoyance whereupon she ran her hand through his tousled hair with a heavy sigh.  
"Don't do that, mum!" He immediately complained and brought his hair back in disorder.  
When Catherine turned around, she caught Henry staring hat her. She questioningly raised an eyebrow which made her husband smile benignly at her.  
"I don't even remember the last time I saw you in jeans," he said standing up to prepare a cup of coffee for her.

Catherine looked skeptically at the blurry and unfamiliar reflection in the glass of the baking oven. It has been indeed a long time since she'd seen herself being casually dressed like this. Still, she felt unexpectedly comfortable in her oversized wool sweater and her washed-out jeans.  
"You should wear them more often, it looks great on you," Henry announced, coming over to hand her a cup of cappuccino. Then he gently directed her to one of the chairs. There was already a plate with a fresh bagel with cream cheese waiting for her.

Catherine sat down and suddenly became aware that both her children were giving them irritated looks.  
"What? Am I not allowed to pay my wife a compliment?" Henry asked, who hadn't missed his sons questioning glances either.  
"Of course you are allowed to do so. At least it's a nice change. But you have to forgive me nonetheless if I find your behavior a bit strange this morning." Francis replied, rubbing his chin engrossed in thought.  
"Maybe he's running a fever?" Charlie guessed.  
Catherine had following her men's exchange half alerted, half amused. She leaned over the counter and touched Henry's forehead.  
"No fever," she explained succinctly, whereupon her husband and Charles laughed and Francis just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Henry winked at her in amusement.  
"Eat, Kitten!"

"Now I think I know why the both of you are looking so tired today." Francis' words made Catherine drop her bagel she was just about to raise to her mouth.  
"Excuse me? What?" She croaked.  
"Nothing you have to sanctify." Francis raised his hands appeasingly. First he looked at her and then at his father. "After all you're married. To each other. It's just unusual. Kind of."

"What I would like to know, Francis: What's going on between Mary Scott and you?" Catherine asked to divert everyone's attention from Henry's and her relationship and their recent truce to another topic.  
"Why do you ask? We just had a business lunch."  
The female CEO gave her oldest son a keen look.  
"And?" She asked slowly, realizing that he would not reveal any further detail of his own volition, although his eyes spoke volumes.

She had never seen this kind of light in Francis' eyes before. A glow that reminded her of his father and a time when she had been the one who had sparked this radiance in his eyes.  
"There is no AND. We had a long conversation about her company. And her parents."  
"And?", Catherine remained defiant. She sensed that Francis's interest was far more than purely professional.  
"And we agreed on a new date for another meeting." At this information Catherine raised an eyebrow, bit into her bagel and chewed carefully before grilling her son once again.  
"Another meeting? When? Not today by any chance?"  
"No. Not today." One single intense look was all it took to make her son cave. "Okay, tomorrow."

Both of them knew that there was no real reason for a follow-up meeting right now because first Catherine had to work out and prepare a tentative offer with her lawyer before they could proceed with their negotiations.  
"Mhm," she murmured, unable to suppress the smug grin that spread all over her face.  
"Charlie, we'd better leave now or you'll be late." Francis said, deliberately avoiding his mother's curious questions. He had probably inherited her pronounced skill of abruptly changing the subject in unpleasant situations.

Charles jumped off the kitchen counter with an indignant growl and lazily scuffed his feet across the floor without lifting them.  
"Dad, about my laptop... I really need it back, you know," he said to Henry who stroked his stubbly chin.  
"Did you do what your mum told you to do?"  
Catherine was mildly irritated by this reply and curious about the further course of this conversation so she leaned forward in her chair.  
"Man, tidying up gives bad vibes. How should a man feel confortable in a neat and cleaned up room? "His cocky words triggered a suppressed chuckle in the back of her throat but she tried to remain indifferent.  
"You still got a long way to go, my son. And if you want your laptop back before you reach the age of majority, then you'd better clean up your mess."  
"That's completely uncool," Charlie grumble and closed the door with an irritated expression on his young face.

"What happened to: Taking away his notebook is the wrong signal?", she wanted to know as soon as they were alone in the kitchen. Secretly, however, she enjoyed the feeling that he finally seemed to act in concert with her.  
"Maybe I have readjusted my own antennas to get a better signal myself."  
His statement elicited Catherine a throaty laugh.  
"You should do that more often from now on," she recommended and heartily bit into her bagel.

Henry rose to get himself another coffee. When he returned to the kitchen island, he did not revert to his chair as expected but paused to stand right behind her and caressed her shoulders instead.  
"You are very... physical today," she told him.  
"Physical, Kitten?" Waggishness flashed from his dark eyes when he finally turned to face her and settled in the chair next to his wife.  
"You know what I mean!"

Her statement caused Henry to stroke her leg.  
"Do I?" Catherine rolled her eyes, but tolerated his touch.  
"Yes! And thanks to you, Francis thinks now that yesterday we've had..." She left the rest of her sentence unsaid, inducing Henry to pick up on it immediately.  
"...hot and phenomenal sex? We've had exactly that, my dear." He explained as a matter of fact. A naturalness she could not muster at that moment.  
"Don't you remind me!" She demanded, hiding her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed.  
"Then let me remind you that you've promised me to call your therapist?"

His voice had suddenly taken on a very gentle tone and even the playful undertone that he had displayed seconds before, had given way to earnestness. Catherine slowly raised her head and turned to her husband, who looked her intensely and slowly raised his hand to brush a strand of honey blonde hair from her forehead.  
"I haven't forgotten, Henry", she whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

"And what am I going to do with Henry?" Catherine asked helplessly, unable to resist the urge to hide her tear-stained face behind her hands. The last hour had exhausted her emotionally as well as physically and she felt that she was at the end of her tether.  
After her desperate call Doris had squeezed her in despite her busy schedule this day and relinquished her lunchbreak for Catherine's sake.

During the past 60 minutes they had passed through the valley of tears and despair and for the first time since the rape, Catherine had been utterly confronted with her pain and anxieties. She had put aside her mask of repression and had emotionally revealed herself - completely naked and vulnerable. A big breakthrough, as Doris called it.

"What would you like to do regarding Henry?" Her dark-haired therapist sat bolt upright in her chair, appraising Catherine with her mindful intelligent eyes.  
"It's not fair to answer a question with a counter question," the blonde woman complained to avoid a direct answer.  
"In principle you already know the answer to your question, Catherine," Doris answered.  
But her therapist was wrong. Because right now she didn't know anything anymore.

"I think I know what Henry wants but I can't even figure out what I may want," she admitted to Doris and herself.  
Her words echoed in her head and all of a sudden Catherine knew at least the things she didn't want, under no circumstances. She did not want to live a farce anymore. She no longer wanted to share her husband with other women and she most certainly did not want to be scourged by her fears any longer.

"And what is it that Henry wants?"  
"He wants his old Catherine back. The woman he fell in love with. But I don't know if she still exists." Her words held a sadness that irritated even herself.  
"Did he say so?"

Catherine sighed and massaged her temples that were throbbing horribly after her previous fit of weeping.  
"No, of course not. But he wants a revive our relationship."  
"And this is only possible with the old Catherine? The Catherine before the rape?" Doris asked, causing Henry's wife to shake her head in confusion.  
"I don't know if I have the strenght to revive our marriage," she whispered wearily.

"But do you want it?" Doris looked her straight in the eye. "Do you love Henry?"

It wasn't the first time her therapist asked her this question and she had always answered in the affirmative. But before Catherine could react, Doris raised her hand and placed it gently on her patient's knee.  
"Think about it before you answer, Catherine. The question is not whether you love him because it has become a habit or because you may feel obliged to do so. Also not to ease your consciences or because it's what you're supposed to do because you're his wife. The question is: Do you love Henry for he still moves something deep inside you and you can not imagine a life without him? Because there is still something very special between the two of you?"

The seriousness of this question threatened to crush her and yet Catherine knew that there was only one possible answer.  
"Yes" And though she only spoke softly, this single little word had the strength of a force of nature. Just like Henry. At that thought she gave her therapist a tentative smile.  
"And here you have your answer. Allow yourself to embark on it. Allow your feelings to resurface and try to trust Henry. Accept the past and focus on your future. With your husband. With your family.  
Something terrible has happened to you. But it has also made you the person you are today. A successful businesswoman whose hourly wage is probably higher than my weekly earnings. Be proud of what you have achieved and brave enough to change what you can not live with anymore."

"You make it sounds so easy," Catherine sighed and she caught herself wishing for all these things.  
"Oh no, it's not easy. It's a hell of a lot of work and a painful path of trial and tribulation, let's not fool ourselves."  
At that moment she loved and cursed Doris' openness simultaneously. How could this woman be so positive and in the same breath absolutely daunting?  
"Shouldn't you encourage me instead of being so demotivating?"  
"Above all I should be honest with you. You were refusing a more in-depth therapy for quite a while now and you didn't want to hear the truth. But let me tell you something else: you are a strong woman. One who can master everything if she just sets her mind on it. You just have to believe it."

"Oh how I wish I could do that. But right now I do not even know where to start," Catherine admitted, playing self-forgotten with her wedding band.  
"With yourself, Catherine. Do something for you. Treat yourself and start prioritizing your own needs. Involve your husband."

Involving Henry? The thought alone made Catherine shudder. Because involving him in her healing process required trust. But could she trust her husband?

Doris, not missing her inner tumult, leaned forward and reached for Catherine's hand.  
"Small steps, always one foot in front of the other. Don't put yourself under too much pressure. And try to trust Henry." At this advice, Catherine gave her a tentative nod.  
"I will try," her answer was not louder than a hesitant whisper while she was fighting upcoming tears again.  
"This is the first step. You can do it."  
Oh, how she wished to share Doris' confidence.

For the next couple of days Catherine righteously tried to follow her therapist's advice. And though she still felt uneasy and lost from time to time, for the first time in years she also felt a vague sense of confidence.

She was thinking a lot about her conversation with her therapist and also about her rape and the repressed trauma that had triggered her breakdown in the kitchen. Catherine knew that she could not undo the harm that was done to her, no matter how much she wished for it. But she could learn to accept it.

And unlike repression, her newly gained acceptance didn't leave her with this unnerving sense of helplessness. On the contrary, she felt stronger and braver than ever before. No longer like her own prisoner in a never-ending nightmare, but alive and self-determined, even if coming to terms with her experience was still painful.

As a consequence, Catherine had decelerated her daily routine. She now deliberately took more time for her children and for herself.

Her biggest insecurity remained Henry, who was still treating her with the patience of a saint. He was attentive, courteous - almost caring - but also determined in his endeavor to help her.  
Since that life-changing night she felt that she couldn't elude his watchful eyes. Sometimes she even feared to suffocate under his constant care but then there were also times where she wanted to kiss and hug him for his tenderness.

Just yesterday morning he had refueled her car without her even noticing after she had mentioned the previous evening that she had to go to the gas station since the car was already running on empty. A sweet and thoughtful gesture.

But he was also attentive in other ways as well.  
Henry came to her office every day - always a big grin on his face – to pick her up for lunch and he even arrived on time for their last meeting where he set a chair in place for her and brought her some coffee to everyone's astonishment.

Aside from that, her husband never missed an opportunity to touch her. Whether it was a sweet kiss in the morning or his hand on her lower back when he gently guided her toward the elevator during their lunch break. Or during the evening he latterly tended to spent with her in the living room where he didn't settle in the far corner of the couch but right next to her with their bodies touching.

And as far as she could tell he was actually spending the nights in his very own bed and not with one of his countless affairs.  
Catherine wondered when her rude awakening would catch up on her.

She however did not share this thought neither with Henry nor with her therapist who would certainly reprimand her for being a merchant of doom.


	15. Chapter 15

The weeks that followed Catherine's breakdown were anything but easy for Henry. Neither because his unusual consideration made him uncomfortable, nor because the time he recently spent at home - with his family - made him feel like he was missing out on something. Rather the opposite was the case.

He actually regretted his decisions that had estranged him from his family during the last few years and it embarrassed him how little he seemed to know about his own children or his wife.  
So much unnecessarily wasted time.

But what afflicted him the most were the reawakened and steadily growing feelings for his beautiful wife he currently couldn't find an outlet for. The weightiness of these emotions would probably shock his wife. They even shocked him after all.

So he tried to hide them deep in the furthest corner of his very being as not to unintentionally put Catherine under pressure.  
And yet he longed for more. For so much more.  
Not only on a carnal level. He longed for her nearness and wanted to bury his hands in her blonde hair, feel her soft skin under his fingertips or simply kiss her senseless from time to time.  
But most of all, he wished he could just hold her. Wished to fall asleep with his wife in his arms so that once awake in the next morning she would be the first thing his eyes would catch sight of.

But the constant fear of saying the wrong words or endangering her recovery by his need to touch her all the time was breathing down his neck. Even though he tried really hard to conceal his urges. Most of the time he didn't even know how to behave towards her.

His marriage was a minefield and with every step Henry took, he was in danger of precipitating a catastrophe. Finding a safe passage seemed like an impossibility, no matter how hard he tried or how careful he was.

On this day Henry had run to the little Deli shop on the opposite corner of the street and bought some wraps for their lunch break. Now he was riding to the upper floor. He was in a good mood and looking forward to spend some time with his wife. Besides the paper bag with their food he was also holding a green smoothie he had additionally ordered for Catherine. He wouldn't be caught dead drinking any of these disgusting, health crazed swills made of spinach, avocado, mango and whatever else, but he knew his wife loved them nonetheless.

When he stepped into the anteroom, it wasn't Charlotte who greeted him but a shy-looking girl with long, blonde hair.  
"Mr. Valois!"  
"Where's Charlotte?" he asked in surprise.  
"Unfortunately Charlotte had to call in sick. My name is Aylee and I am standing in for her today." After a moment's hesitation she added uncertainly: "Or at least I'm trying".

"I'm sure you're doing great. Has Catherine finished her call?" he wanted to know and placed the food bag on the desk.  
"Not yet, but it shouldn't take too long."  
"Then I'm going to wait for her," her husband decided and took one of the visitor chairs. His action made Aylee even more insecure.  
The girl looked back and forth between Henry, Catherine's closed office door and her watch rather nervously.

Henry tapped his right foot impatiently, then he pulled out his phone and checked his mails.  
"Um, Mr. Valois? I'm terribly sorry but I actually have an engagement for lunch and I'm already running late..." Henry raised his head when the young woman piped up.  
"Then you'd better hurry. No worries, I can wait by myself. Or is there anything else?"  
"Nothing that can't wait until after lunch. But maybe you can give your wife this confirmation for her appointments?"

Henry nodded and reached for the paper where various appointments had been noted in a neat handwriting. Not even raising his head, the male CEO dismissed the young woman. His eyes scanned the lines curiously. All of them were cosmetic applications in a beauty salon.  
"Pedicure, manicure, hot stone massage, waxing?" He read aloud, frowning irritably.  
Then he googled the studio. "What the hell is she doing?" he wondered aloud when suddenly the door opened and Catherine stepped out.

"Who is doing what?" she asked with her eyebrows raised in question.  
"You my Dear. I didn't know you're into waxing lately," Henry got to the point right away. His words caused a tender blush to spread on Catherine's cheeks and she jerked the note out of his hand.  
"That's private, Henry."

Now it was her husband who lifted an eyebrow and studied her carefully. This appointment or rather his knowledge about it seemed to make her feel uncomfortable. So she planned to wax more intimate places than just her armpits or legs.

"Is this smoothie for me?" she asked quickly, pointing at the poisonous green drink.  
Henry nodded absent-mindedly all the while wondering since when his wife was interested in this kind of nonsense.

He tried to remember their encounter in the elevator and whether her pubic region had been hairless, but he couldn't tell by no stretch of his imagination since he had been preoccupied with other things.  
In the past, Catherine had taken care of trimming and shaving her private parts herself.

"Oh, it's delicious! How was your morning?" his wife praised her drink and redirected his thoughts on other paths with her question.  
"Uneventful. Here, eat something, Kitten. How about that telco with Barner?"

This was unusual for Henry. Being up-to-date with Catherine's work schedule and even showing an honest interest in the things going on in this company. Because he had realized that there was more than one point of contention between them that needed to be smoothed out and starting on a professional level was not the worst idea.

His wife had accused him of only being interested in company matters that concerned him directly and in a quiet moment of reflection he had figured out that Catherine was absolutely right with her accusation. So it was time to change his attitude and finally bear responsibility together with his wife instead of hiding in his programming den.

"Quite good actually. Unexpectedly good, if you ask me." Catherine sat down on Charlotte's desk and unpacked her wrap. Henry, following an inner impulse, stroked his wife's knee in a loving gesture.  
"There are even grater men who have succumbed to your irresistible charm. Besides Barner seems to be a smart man. He wants the best. And that's us."  
"No doubt," she agreed and made no effort to push his hand off her leg. Instead she bit into the flatbread roll and appreciatively closed her eyes while chewing.

Henry's eyes, on the other hand, were wide open and he was fascinated by the facial expression on her face. In moments like these he realized once again that Catherine was a sensualist. He loved the way her pink tongue kept on running over her lips and the urge to lick the rest of the sauce out of the corner of her mouth himself grew with each passing second.

"What is it? You're not hungry?" she asked after a while and pointed at the paper bag that still contained his untouched wrap. Then she dabbed her mouth with one of the napkins which deprived Henry of his illusion.  
"Au contraire, I've worked up quite an appetite" he replied with a rough voice but he knew that it was not the hunger for food that vehemently demanded to be feed this instant.

Clearly also Catherine must have sensed the tension that reigned his body, seeking a way to discharge, for she looked up and scrutinized him with an intensity that prompted the fine hair on his neck to raise.  
He even thought he saw recognition flickering in her eyes and involuntarily held his breath, anxious to see how she would react.

"Well, then go ahead and eat" she finally said and threw the paper bag on his lap.  
There was still something indefinable in her eyes. Something he would like to explore.

But this was neither the right place nor the right time.  
So he took out his food, unwrapped it and took a first bite.  
All the while keeping his eyes firmly clued on his wife, whose corners of the mouth slowly turned into an enigmatic Mona-Lisa smile.

A smile that prompted his heart to leap with joy.


	16. Chapter 16

They grew together as a family during the following weeks. Having breakfast all together on a daily basis and cosy evenings in their living room became part of their routine now. After watching a Seahawks' game with Catherine, Francis, Claude and Charlie on TV, Henry decided to buy them tickets for the next game. It's been ages since they've last cheered for their team in a stadium.

Henry liked his newly acquired role as caring father and faithful husband. Even more he liked the forgiving, almost loving glances Catherine gave him from time to time. Glances that warmed his heart.

To his delight she warmed up towards him, he even thought she started trusting him again not only on a private level, but on a professional level as well. So he made sure to take an active part in the planning for their company's anniversary party. He even accompanied her to all possible locations that came into consideration.

Their newfound closeness even went so far, that they drove to the party together in his car as a couple. And unlike the many years before, Henry did not intend to waste this evening with getting drunk and fucking yet another bimbo.

He planned on staying sober except for a glass of wine or beer and most importantly we didn't plan on leaving his wife's side, not even for a second. He knew big crowds made her feel unconfortable.  
As soon as Catherine expresses her wish to leave, he would grab her arm and escort her to his car in order to bring her home. If everything went well, he might even be able to steal a kiss or two.

When Catherine had come down the stairs earlier this evening in a gown made of red chiffon with an incredbly daring neckline, her sight had literally taken his breath away. The dress fitted her like a second skin, flattering all her curves in the most exciting way. Curves Henry would have loved to explore.

Between the sweet valley of her breasts he detected the silver necklace he had given her on their fifth anniversary. Henry hadn't seen her wearing this necklace for ages and it gave him a thrill knowing that she'd choosen this special piece of jewelry.  
Catherine's honey coloured hair was skillfully pinned up tonight. Except for a few locks that gently framed her beautiful face.

The compliments he had stammered at her sight sounded anything but smooth, but they made her cheeks blush in the nicest way possible none the less.  
Henry felt like the happiest man on earth, when he was standing in front of their employees - with Catherine by his side – thanking them for their loyality, their efforts and contribution.

"A glass of wine for you, my dear?" he asked after his speech and watched their employees slowly fan out into the ballroom.  
"Yes, I'd love some wine." The smile on her face was so beautiful and genuine that Henry could do nothing but foolishly grin at her, before he looked around in search for a waiter.

Just when he discovered one of the waiters and was heading for the man, he saw Richard de la Croix purposefully approaching his wife from the corner of his eye. The other man's eyes wided in a telltale sign at Catherine's admittedly gorgeous sight.

"You're looking beautiful tonight." Henry drove around and appraised his old friend suspiciously. "Don't get me wrong, you're always beautiful. But tonight..."  
At hearing these words, Henry couldn't suppress rolling his eyes in annoyance while a deep and unhappy gnarl escaped his throat. He impatiently placed his order and instructed the waiter to bring their drinks to where Catherine was standing. Then he made his way through the crowd back to his wife.

"Richard. I'm glad you made it." The male CEO patted his former best friend's shoulder harder than necessary, then he put his arm around his wife's waist in a rather possessive way. Catherine gave him an irritated look but didn't try to free herself.  
"I wouldn't have missed it for a thousand dollars. I was just congratulating Catherine on this brilliant event. What a wonderfull location." The wide smile Richard casted in his wife's direction made Henry's blood boil.

"Oh yes, my wife is a genius. Ah, here comes our wine. There you go, darling." With a resolute expression on his face, Henry took the two glasses from the waiter and handed one of them to his wife. He didn't wait for Richard to order a trink for himself, but only proposed a toast to Catherine.

"I wasn't aware that Francis was going to invite Mary Scott," their personnel manager suddenly said after the waiter had brought him something to drink.  
"Neither was I," Catherine replied and craned her neck in order to catch a glimpse at her son and his escort.  
The pair was standing in a quiet corner and only had eyes for each other.

Skeptically Catherine watched her son and the young Scotswoman, who chose this moment to threw her hair back while starting to laugh heartily at something their son had said. Francis grinned all over his face, but when Mary clasped his hand, his openly displayed infatuation gave way to embarrassment. A reaction that amused Henry. Obviously Francis felt more insecure when confronted with the fairer sex than his old man ever had been.

"He actually asked me if it was okay to bring a girl," Henry admitted to his wife, whereupon Catherine turned around and looked at him in astonishment. "It's not okay?" he asked, because he was feeling more and more insecure under her critical gaze.

"Of course it is okay if Francis wants to bring someone. I just wasn't expecting this someone to be Mary Scott." Henry looked at his wife and could tell that she didn't like the thought that a potential business partner was attending their company's anniversary party.

"He is young and inexperienced," Henry defended his son. "And obviously our boy is in love."  
"Mhm." Catherine's muttered reply didn't sound very enthusiastic and he wondered whether to put in a good word for Francis or rather to have a serious father-son talk with his boy.

Before they could carry on their discussion, Sebastian came over and joined them. His presence distracted them from Francis and his escort.

Throughout the whole evening, Henry was remarkably attentive to his wife and - for the first time since years – he felt like being part of a real couple. A heartwarming feeling, especially since Catherine seemed to enjoy his touches and the attention he was giving her.

To his displeasure, Richard had also decided to trail after his wife today, which annoyed Henry more than usual. He was well aware that they were friends, but until now he hadn't realized that his former best friend quite obviously had a weakness for Catherine. No wonder,for he had paid far too little attention to her the last few years. Henry wondered why he hadn't ever noticed that the looks his former best friend was giving his wife were more than just friendly.

So he shouldn't be surprised if other men had their eyes on her nowadays. But from now on he would no longer tolerate any rival.

After their dispute more than a decade ago, he had restricted his contact with Richard to a mere professional level. He knew that Catherine had cultivated their friendship over the years, after all he was Francis' godfather, but Henry had stopped caring.

Something he shouldn't have done if he interpreted Richard's reaction to the outfit Catherine was wearing this night correctly. Basically, it was no wonder that his childhood friend seemed to be smitten. Catherine was a beautiful and strong woman who had received far too little attention from her own husband.

"Henry, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been thinking about our new software rollout, do you have a minute?" Leith, a young and overambitious programmer who had only been with his team for a few months, had approached their corner and looked at Henry with so much optimistic hope in his eyes that he could not bring himself to downright reject his request. But before he could come up with a halfway diplomatic answer, his wife interfered.

"Henry, why don't you take up this issue with Leith and Richard and I will go looking for a table? Richard, would you be a dear and get us some of these delicious Horsd'oevres? I'm starving."  
It was like his wife to take command and boss everyone around. But this determination was one of the qualities Henry had always admired in her and what had attracted him from the beginning.

Catherine was a woman that knew what she wanted. So he nodded in agreement, but didn't leave without giving her a short yet intense parting kiss to show Richard whose wife Catherine was.  
"See you later, Kitten. Leave me some Horsd'oevres, would you?"


	17. Chapter 17

From a quiet corner of the ballroom, Catherine was watching the hustle and bustle around her. For many years now they were having a party in honour of their company's anniversary and Henry was usually dancing right in the middle of their tipsy and cheerful employees.

The female CEO let her eyes wander over the numerous young women in their very short and very daring dresses. They were even outshining the sparkling decoration.  
Involuntarily she asked herself which one of these little sluts would end up in Henry's bed tonight.

For though he was currently paying her more attention than ever before after her hapless breakdown, she still knew that a wolf could never pass for a sheep. His natural instinct was to hunt, and on this special evening his potential prey was dancing right in front of him. Temptingly as well as willingly.  
So why should he waste even more time and energy to win back his traumatized wife in the first place, when he had a free choice of willing fuck buddies at his beck and call?

From what she could tell and by way of comparison, Henry had lived abstinently in the recent weeks, but she knew that mastering his self-control was not among his core competences.  
The very idea that he was going to amuse himself this night with another - probably much younger – woman, stung Catherine's heart.

She hated herself for giving Henry her heart once again, for chasing an illusion that would probably burst like a bubble, once reality touched it's fragile shell tonight.

In fact, the thought of holding out the prospect of sex to him had briefly crossed her mind in order to prevent Henry from straying. But for some inexplicable reason she had refrained from doing so.

Perhaps it was her self-destructive nature that made her jeopardize her relationship by waiting deedlessly for his instincts to gain the upper hand. Before she fell in love with the idea of saving their marriage.

But she already knew that it was too late for that.  
Henry would break her heart. Most likely before the night was over.  
She could easily imagine what Doris had to say about her deliberations. Her therapist would very likely be accusing her of self-boycott.

"What's the matter? You're so quiet." Richard wanted to know and tore Catherine out of her thoughts.  
"I just realized that Henry enjoys these kind of events more than I do," she replied in a sad voice and searched for her husband in the crowd. She found him standing in the middle of the hall, engrossed in a conversation with Leith, Sebastian and some young women that had joined them.  
But to her astonishment, he chose this very moment to look at them. He even winked at Catherine.

"Maybe it's just me, but it looks like Henry's changed." Richard's remark surprised her. Normally he avoided topics that had anything to do with Henry or his behavior since their falling-out.  
"The both of us have changed," she confessed to her friend, whose eyes went big all of a sudden.  
"Are you telling me that you're giving it another try?" His surprise was written all over Richard's face.  
"Yes, we must be crazy." A little smile flitted over Catherine's features that noticeably turned sad. "You think I'm naive for believing that Henry is capable of changing?", she wanted to know.  
"You may be many things, but certainly not naive. As of Henry: I don't even know where to start. First of all, he is an incorrigible philanderer. Moreover he's profoundly irresponsible, an opportunist and do I really have to remind you of the innumerable women he'd had an affair with?" Catherine opened her mouth in order to interrupt him, but Richard raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. "But I also know that he was once madly in love with you. I would love seeing the two of you getting back together or even saving your marriage, Catherine. But please don't expect me to hold my breath."

"Wow, that was quite..." Catherine stopped herself in search of an appropriate wording.  
"...honest?" Richard offered and put a smile on his face that looked as tormented as her own. "But I can assure you that I will always be there for you."  
"You mean you will be there to sweep up the shards of our broken marriage? Because you think it's doomed anyway?"  
"Why, of course not?! That's not what I'm thinking, Catherine. But I get the impression that you may think so."  
"Maybe I am," she admitted hesitantly and once again she searched for Henry in the crowd.

This time he didn't raise his head to meet her gaze.

His small group had meanwhile moved towards the dance floor and to her displeasure the number of young women surrounding her husband had increased.

"Richard, would you mind driving me home after dinner?" she asked him quietly.  
"Of course," her friend agreed immediately. She knew that Richard usually stayed sober since he favoured driving with his own car over calling a cab. And unlike Henry, he was a responsible driver who contented himself with a single glass of wine for the whole night.  
"Thank you," she mumbled and a strange sense of discouragement overcame her.

Henry chose this exact moment to rejoin them. He was carrying two glasses. One filled with red wine, the other was a coke.  
"I'm sorry, Kitten. Bash stopped by and tied me up in a discussion about the benefits of... nevermind. I'm sorry you had to wait. But I brought you your favorite wine."  
He gallantly offered his wife her glass and kept on ignoring Richard's presence.

Catherine accepted the wine and smelled at the noble bouquet.  
"Are you just having a coke?" She asked in irritation about his own choise of drink while Henry dropped down next to her. He scooted over to his wife until his thigh was touching hers. Then as a matter of course he put his hand on her knee.  
"I'm your chauffeur tonight, remember?" Her husband whispered while fondly caressing her knee and winking at her.  
"Henry, you don't have to stay sober or leave earlier because of me. Richard has already offered me a ride home."

Catherine wasn't able to hide her surprise. She appreciated his care, even though she didn't quite understand his motives.  
She usually left the festivity once the official part was over, while Henry kept on partying until the wee hours of the morning. So why should he chose to stay sober just to drive her home and return to the party when Richard could drive her just as well? Or she could call a cab by all means.

"That won't be necessary," Henry grumbled and gave his former friend a dirty glare, before turning his attention back to his wife. "We will leave this party any time you wish, darling."

"Henry, it's not a problem for me, not even a detour. I'll drive Catherine home and you can stay as long as you want to. I certainly won't mind."  
"Very well, that's settled then. I'll leave with Richard and you can stay. Would you excuse me for a minute?" Catherine said matter-of-factly, grabbed her handbag and headed to the restroom.


	18. Chapter 18

Henry waited until his wife was out of earshot. But as soon as she disappeared around the corner, his facial expression hardened.  
"Listen, Richard. I would appreciate it if you'd stop interrupting the conversations I have with my wife. And keep your hands off of Catherine. Otherwise I'm going to teach you a lesson."

Instead of backing off, Richard had the audacity to feign surprise by raising his hands in a soothing manner.  
"Wow. What the hell is wrong with you, Henry? Apparently the wine you've had seems to disagree with you. And I'm not hitting on Catherine."  
"I have eyes and I know what I've seen, pal," Henry replied, searching in vain for a way to release his pent-up emotions.

"Eyes you tend to aim at other women, I might add. It strikes me a little bit hypocritical to play the loving and jealous husband all of a sudden." Richard's tone was sharp and unforgiving and his words fuelled Henry's jealousy.  
"What are you saying?" Henry asked him angrily.  
"For the last few years you've treated her like shit, you've disregarded her, fornicated with half of Seattle's female population and now you accuse me of... of what exactly? Did you ever wonder how Catherine might feel?"

Upon hearing this portentousness, Henry felt a strong sense of rage burning deep within his very beeing that tried to trick him into knocking that smug and stupid grin out of the other man's face.  
"Our marital problems are none of your business, Richard," he pressed out between his teeth angrily.  
"There you go. Your marriage consists of nothing but problems! But do you know what Catherine's biggest problem is? She loves you, you asshole. That's why she can't leave you and is rushing towards doom with her eyes wide open. And yes, I shouldn't interfere, but I happen to care about your wife and I can't stand idly by while she's desperately clinging to something that only exists on paper."

Then a realization struck Henry like a physical blow.  
"You love her. You're in love with Catherine." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Richard stared at him, unable to formulate an answer. But he didn't have to, the caught look in his eyes gave him away. For Henry it was as if with his mute and yet so meaningful reaction, his former friend was waving with a red rag right in front of his face, hot-wiring his rational thinking.  
And suddenly a single yet powerful and dominant emotion took possession of his body.  
Furiousness. Raging, jealousy-driven furiousness.  
Directed at this insolent man who dared to sit in front of him, drinking his wine and eating his hors d'oeuvres, who received monthly paychecks as an employee and - to top it all – who dared to love Henry's wife.

His anger raged through his bloodstream, quickly spreading through his body, gradually reaching his extremities until it discharged it's elemental force in a butal punch that hit Richard's face completely unprepared.

"Henry! Oh my God, Richard, are you all right?"  
Catherine's enraged voice interfused the red fog of his furiousness and brought him out of his alarming state.

Once Henry was able to focus and see more clearly again, he realized that they were already surrounded by a small group of people that stared at him and his opponent in disbelief.  
His wife sat next to Richard and was carefully touching up his chin.  
When her gaze met his, he feared that he was going to freeze to death from the coldness in her eyes.

A waiter with a cooling pad and a towel in his hands hurried in their direction, shortly followed by Francis.  
"What has gotten into you, Dad?" his son screamed and fitfully pulled him aside.  
"Richard brought that on himself, son," Henry irreconcilably growled and refused to bear the blame for his outburst all by himself.  
"What on earth did he do that justifies a punch in the face?" Francis didn't even bother trying to hide his anger for he loathed violence.  
"Maybe you should go and ask him."

Since that response wasn't very helpful, his son rolled his eyes at him in annoyance. By doing that Francis reminded him so much of his mother that he had to contain a laughter which would have unnecessarily worsened his situation.  
"But I'm asking you, Dad!"  
"Alright. Your fine uncle and godfather just confessed that he's in love with your mother".

This revelation left his son speachless for the fraction of a second.  
"Okay, that is kind of... strange, but that's still no reason to become violent." All of a sudden Francis' facial expression changed. "Or are they actually..."  
His son stopped mid-sentence, unable to verbalize this disturbing thought out loud.

A thought that Henry hadn't come up with at that point.  
"Good lord, I hope they aren't," Henry croaked and the insecurity in his own voice frightened him.

Involuntarily, his gaze wandered back to Catherine. She was still sitting next to Richard, wearing a worried expression on her face and tended to his bleeding and slightly swollen lower lip. In Henry's opinion she was giving his opponent more care than necessary. Watching her taking care of Richard brought the supposedly evaporated rage in him once again to a critical boiling point.

Just when he was about to intervene, Richard rose with Catherine's help and the two of them left the galery.  
On her way down, Catherine cast him an outraged, almost deadly look.  
"Dad," Francis whispered, warning his father and Henry realized that his hand was clenched into a fist once again.

He helplessly watched his wife, who was leaving the hall on the arm of another man.

The outcome of this evening was different from anything he had ever imagined.  
Was it possible that his anger and his jealousy had driven Catherine right into the arms of his former best friend?

Feeling helpless and profoundly frustrated, Henry ran his hands over his shaved head.  
"What are you all staring at?" he snarled at the people standing around, staring at him and waved at a waiter to come over.  
"Bring me a gin tonic. Lots of gin, less tonic."


	19. Chapter 19

Catherine wasn't able to fall asleep that night since the eventful occurrences of the day still haunted her. She had tried to, once she had arrived at home, right after driving Richard first to a nearby hospital for a check-up and afterwards home to his flat. Luckily Henry hadn't caused any permanent damage and Richard had been released after his wound had been treated properly.

At home she had restlessly rolled from one side of her bed to the other, unable to stop the thoughts that were running round in circles through her head. Eventually she had given up.

Now she was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, wearing her warmest terryrobe with her legs pulled up, a cup of tea in her hands that had gotten cold in the meantime and stared out into the darkness. Completely lost in thought.

It was way past midnight and Henry wasn't home yet. She wasn't really surprised, not after the scene he had caused. But still, his altered behavior during the past weeks had excite a small glimpse of hope and against her better judgment she had permitted the delusion that her husband was really serious this time to take shape in her head. Her own stupid fault, for sure.

Because now she was convinced that this year would be nothing short of a repetition of all previous office parties. He was most likely already in bed with one of these shameless and tarty girls, fucking out her brain and heaven knew what else.  
How the hell could she have assumed that Henry's behavior would change merely for her sake?

But why had he punched Richard at all? And with such ferocity and such a hateful expression in his eyes that had frightened her.

It was no secret that the two men's friendship was similarly shattered as her marriage. As far as she could remember, the first tensions between the former friends had arisen at a time where Henry had started pursuing extramarital liaisons.

Had Henry's infidelity possibly been the main reason for their discord? After what has happened today it was quite conceivable that Richard had taken her side in this matter even back then. He might as well have confronted his best friend on her behalf.  
Richard hadn't known that it was her who had given Henry a carte blanche.  
Moreover, she had never told Richard about the rape and the torments she had to endure ever since.

Of course, he couldn't help but notice the changes in her behavior. For example that she was stricken by naked fear as soon as she had to enter a parking garage and that she felt uncomfortable in larger crowds, but he had never asked for an explanation. And she had never entrusted him with her secret out of a misplaced sense of shame.  
Though he only got a glimpse of the darkness deep within her soul, Richard had always been a reliable friend to her. He also did an excellent job as their personnel manager and he was like an uncle for her children.  
But he had never been able or willing to fix the rift between him and her husband.

And after Henry's violent attack she doubted that the former best friends would ever amicably reconcile with each other. Henry was actually lucky that Richard wasn't going to press charges against him.

When the front door opened all of a sudden, Catherine flinched in alarm and nearly dropped her cup of tea.  
"Come on," Bash's voice could be heard from the hallway, followed by a rumbling noise and some cursing. Then the ceiling light in the hall came on, which illuminated the kitchen with it's streak of pale light.  
"Dad, get a hold of yourself! Otherwise you're going to wake up Catherine and the kids."

With a bad feeling about things to come, Catherine put down her teacup and she quietly moved on tiptoe towards the hallway.  
"That's rather unlikely," Henry slurred with an unsteady voice while she took a stand in the doorway between kitchen and hall.  
"For sure she'sss ... she is with ... with Richard. And doing god ... god knows what as we speak." The alcohol had already reached Henry's speech centre and his eyes looked glassy and bloodshot. On wobbly legs he bent down to take his shoes off, but he was swaying rather heavy that Sebastian had to intervene to prevent him from falling.

"Please, not again! And even if she does... you know, those who live in the glass house should not throw stones." Henry's eldest son lectured him with an annoyed expression on his face.  
"If I were you, I'd rather wish she weren't here. Because she'll certainly kick your ass for what you did tonight."

"That sounds very tempting," Catherine remarked dryly and revealed her presence to the two men in her hall.  
"Catherine," Henry, who was busy with his second shoe, looked up in surprise and awkwardly drove around. This sudden movement, combined with his excessive drinking, caused him to loose his balance. Once again Bash prevented a fall. When he had stabilized Henry, he scrutinized Catherine with a critical look.

"I can't blame you," her husbands eldest muttered.  
After a short moment of hesitation Sebastian apparently came to the conclusion that her mood was still murderous. So he drove his fingers through his dark hair and with a short nod he pointed in Henry's direction.  
"Will he survive the night if I leave him here with you?"  
"If you bring him upstairs and see to it that he stays out of my face for the time being, then maybe," she replied offhandedly. A slight shiver ran down her spine and prompted Catherine to tighten the belt of her dressing gown.

Henry, who was still staring at her as if she had grown a second head, took an uncertain step in her direction.  
"Kitten... I don't know ... I … I thought you were with Richard. You must believe me, I um..." Henry broke off and stared down at her in confusion.  
"What?" she asked angrily, completely throwing him off with her question.  
"Huh, what?" Henry echoed lamely.

Deep down Catherine knew that it was pointless to argue with a drunken man, especially when said drunken man was none other than her husband. Nevertheless, she was eager to know why Henry got carried away and punched his former friend and - against her better judgement - she gave in to her curiosity.

"What am I supposed to believe? That you have lost your mind? How could you beat Richard? What was this all about?" The questions that were nagging her literally gushed out of her mouth.  
"Maybe you should ask Richard. And while you're at it, you can... you can ask him how long he's been in love with you!" The sheer portentousness of his words made her gasp in indignation.  
Sebastian, who had just silently watched their heated exchange, chose this moment to reach for Henry's arm.  
"Dad," he admonishingly raised his voice, but Henry just snorted disapprovingly and tried to eluded his son. With unsteady legs he weaved towards his wife.

With a halting gesture, Catherine raised her hand in order to stop him.  
"That's enough, Henry." Upon hearing that, her husband winced violently, as if her words had physically harmed him. She couldn't blame him, even she was frightened by the frostiness in her voice.

"Come on, Dad. Let's call it a night. I'm taking you upstairs." Sebastian pushed himself between the couple and lay Henry's arm over his shoulder.

"But I'm having a conversation with my wife," Henry resisted defiantly and tried to free himself from his son's grip in vain.

"But Catherine doesn't want to talk to you right now." With a resolute expression on his face, the younger man pushed Henry towards the stairs, not giving in to his fathers whining.

Whereupon Catherine remained in the hallway completely motionless, she just stared at the two men until they had disappeared from her field of vision.

The terrible feeling of disconcertment was slowly spreading through her body, leaving her in a upset mood. Moreover, the feeling of relief given to the fact that he had come home contrary to her expectations did not quite fit the anger that raged deep inside her very being.

And why the hell did Henry think that Richard was in love with her?

Utterly confused, Catherine returned to the kitchen and her cold tea. She decided to give the men some time before she retired as well as she didn't want to risk running into Henry once again.  
Only the Lord alone knew what she was capable of doing in her current state.


	20. Chapter 20

A throbbing pain was mercilessly hammering against Henry's temples the moment he woke up. Groaning loudly, he rolled to the other side of his bed. This movement sparked another wave of pain that threatened to split his skull in pieces, on top of it turning his already nervous stomach.  
When Henry opened his eyes, both his bed and bedroom began spinning at a furious pace.

With another groan, he buried his face deeply in the pillow and closed his eyes to stop the merry-go-round in his head. Henry remained motionless in this position until the dizziness and the stars that were dancing in his field of view had subsided. The raging headaches and the nausea, however, remained.  
"Dammit," he mumbled with a hoarse voice, wishing for death to claim him right now.

It had been a long time since he had woken up with a hangover of this magnitude and for a moment he couldn't even remember what had happened last night.  
But then the memory of the events that had led to his miserable state struck him like lightning.  
Richard had happened!  
Richard, the man who loved his wife and whom he had therefore sandbagged right in front of everyone.

Everything that had happened afterwards was merely a fogged up uncertainty in his addled brain.  
The only thing that came to Henry's mind was Catherine and the way she had looked up at him with horror and disappointment written all over her beautiful face.

The mere remembrance of her gaze caused him even more agony.  
Her horror at his depravation had been so obvious that he had felt like the most horrible person on earth. Well, most likely he was the most horrible person.

Henry stayed in that position, tormented by pain and shame for several, seemingly endless minutes, then he plucked up his courage and opened his eyes once again, blinking carefully. Just like before, everything turned around him, albeit at a slower pace. With narrowed eyes he concentrated on his breathing and gradually the merry-go-round of horror came to a halt.

And while he stared into nothingness with glassy, bloodshot eyes, more fragments of his memories came to light.  
Sebastian had brought him home and down in the hall he had run into Catherine of all people in all his drunken, inarticulate splendor.  
And he remembered the relief he had felt upon realizing that she had returned to their shared house and not slipped into Richard's waiting arms instead.

Henry carefully turned his head to one side and discovered two pills besides a glass of water on his bedside table. Pain relievers! Bash must have placed them there in wise precaution.  
"Good kid," he muttered and rolled over towards his bedside table, moaning in agony by doing so. Once he could reach them, he swallowed the pills and flushed them down with plenty of water.

But only after a cold shower did Henry feel fit enough to leave his bedroom and face reality, in his case - his family. Quietly, as not to draw too much attention, he sneaked down the stairs. Then he stopped in the hallway to listen carefully. But he was only greeted by silence.

Only from a distance did he hear a muffled voice. Catherine's voice.  
To avoid an initial confrontation, Henry chose to flee in the opposite direction from where her voice was coming from. If he wasn't mistaken, Catherine was on the terrace, doing a call. So he went to the kitchen like a sleepwalker and started preparing some extra strong coffee.

Before he could put the cup to his lips however, the door was pushed open powerfully. Henry didn't even have to look up to know who was now standing on the threshold between dining room and kitchen, threatening to stab him with a murderous glare.  
"Don't say anything," he asked his wife and sipped at the coffee that burned his throat.  
"To be honest, there's nothing left to say anyway." Catherine sounded more disappointed than angry and her reaction caused Henry to finally raise his eyes and look at her.

"I'm sorry, Kitten," he meekly mumbled and resisted the urge to squirm like a worm under her piercing gaze.  
"What exactly are you sorry for?" The same harshness with which Catherine had spoken to him yesterday had returned to her voice and induced Henry to swallow hard.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you."  
"Embarrass me? Do you seriously believe that this is your biggest problem after your behaviour last night?" Catherine didn't even try to hide her anger from him. He actually couldn't blame her.  
"No, but truth be told – I care about you and your feelings most. So it doesn't matter what others might think about last night. But the thought that you and Richard ... I just saw red."

"Please spare me. For years you didn't care about how and with whom I spend my time and suddenly you act like a jealous husband? You should apologize to Richard, not to me."  
Catherine didn't give him another chance to reply, for she turned on her heel and left the kitchen. Not without forcefully closing the door.

In resignation Henry slumped against the kitchen counter and stared at the closed door, which more than clearly symbolized that he had unwillingly destroyed the frail seedling of their reforming relationship with his ill-considered and jealous behavior.

And he didn't know how to fix things between them.  
One thing, however, he knew.  
He couldn't lose his wife. Not again.

During the next few days he tried hard to smooth things out. Not an easy task, since not only Catherine, but the majority of his staff and family had witnessed his outbreak of violence and the knowing glances they now threw his way made it impossible to spread the cloak of forgetfulness over what had happened.

Both his wife and their sons avoided him. Only his little girl and Sebastian had a word with him from time to time.

Nevertheless, he did not let himself be discouraged by her distance. He understood Catherine's anger and had been willing to give her some time to cool down.  
But after a week had passed, Henry found himself at the other side of her office door to make another attempt at reconciliation, baring her favorite dish from the Deli downstaris as a peace-offering. Since the anteroom was unoccupied, Henry entered after a short knock.

"Henry, what do you want?" Catherine, who was wearing an elegant navy-blue costume with a white silk blouse that day, rose at his sight and scrutinized him.A grim and unforgiving expression lay on her beautiful face.  
"I'm here to have lunch with you," he announced cheerfully and placed the food boxes on her desk. His words sounded more cheerful than he actually felt.

"This isn't a good time. I already have a lunch appointment and afterwards an afternoon off." His wife circled her desk and built herself up right in front of him. Since Catherine was wearing high-heeled shoes, they were nearly of the same height and thus he met her gaze at eye level.  
"Catherine, I just want...", he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.  
"I don't care what you want. I for my part don't want to be late for my appointment," she interrupted him brusquely.

But before she could turn away, Henry grabbed her arm to stop her.  
"Don't do that" he muttered insistently, forcing Catherine to keep on looking at him.  
"What?" she hissed and deep in his heart Henry was happy that he wasn't hearing even the tiniest hint of fear in her voice but rather anger.  
"Don't run from me. Not again. Can't you see how hard I try?"  
"Not everything is about you, Henry." With a jerk Catherine broke free from him. Then she grabbed her handbag and literally stormed out of her office.

Henry - who was just standing in the middle of the room in a state of utter dumbfounding – slowly pulled himself out of his rigidity and violently threw the food boxes into Catherine's waste-paper basket.  
"Damn it," he cursed when the image of Catherine meeting up with Richard started to appear before his inner eye. "That stupid asshole!"

Then he stormed out of Catherine's office as well.


	21. Chapter 21

When Catherine got home with Claude, it was already late afternoon. She had taken her therapist's advice to heart and had actually granted herself some me-time. And time for her daughter.

Since Claude only had classes until noon that day, Catherine had taken this golden opportunity to take her girl to lunch. Afterwards they drove to a nearby mall and went shopping.  
It's been ages since they had done anything as mother and daughter and both of them had enjoyed their time together. They've had great talks and laughed a lot. Claude had even persuaded Catherine to try on some lingerie they had admired at a Victoria's Secret store and in the end her daughter had forced her to buy some of the sets.

The nagging feeling of uneasiness about spending a lot of money on something as pointless as sexy underwear disappeared as soon as she recalled the conversation she'd had with her therapist Doris.  
Taking care of herself wasn't reprehensible and if a wispof black and red lace could improve her out-of-control body image, then the lingerie was worth every single dollar.

After shopping, Claude had met up with some friends downtown. So Catherine had dropped her daughter off and drove on to her next appointment, also a private one. In a wellness and spa centre.

There she had had a nice full-body massage with warm ethereal oils. And because she had been carried away and told Charlotte to book a complete package with all possible treatments, she had also had her nails and feet done and a facial. All in all these were wonderfully relaxing procedures, except for the waxing, an experience she would like to do without in the future.

Before returning home she picked up Claude and they stopped by at Ha Long - their favourite Chinese restaurant - to order some takeout.  
When Catherine steered her Porsche into their driveway, the first thing she noticed was Henry's car.  
"I told you that Dad would be home. He has changed, Mum," Claude defended her farther while Catherine's car came to a halt right behind Henry's Mustang.  
"Good thing we brought him his favorite as well." Her daughter jumped out of the car and ran to the trunk to take her purchases out. Catherine contented herself with the take-out boxes and her handbag. The rest of the bags would have to wait.

Before they have even reached the doorstep, the door was torn open by Catherine's youngest son.  
"I hope you brought something to eat. I'm starving," Charlie greeted his sister. His face lit up as soon as he spotted his mother with the food boxes.  
"Ha Long," he exclaim in delight and tore the bags out of Catherine's hands.  
"Hello my boy. It's nice to see you, too," she sighed and followed Charles into the house.

In the hallway she bumped into Henry, who was slipping into his sneakers and blocking the hallway.  
"Oh, you brought something for dinner? That's great. Charlie kept on whining and nagging me. I was about to go to Ha Long. Well, then I will just get something for myself." Hearing Henry say this stung Catherine in a rather unexpected and painful way. Did he really expect her to buy dinner for anyone but him as a revenge? After everything that had happened between them in the last few weeks? Obviously he did.

"Hold your horses, Henry. We brought you crispy duck in sweet-sour sauce," Catherine said and slipped out of her heels. When she looked up at him and her eyes met his, she caught him gazing at her with such a tender, grateful look that threatened to turn her legs into jelly.  
"Kitten..." Henry whispered in awe as if she had saved his life and touched her cheek. Catherine just rolled her eyes and steeled herself against his charm offensive.  
"You have to thank Claude. She insisted on bringing you something as well", she answered and walked past him into the kitchen. All the while Catherine was trying to hide how much his gratitude and closeness was unnerving her.

Henry followed her. Even if his wife played down her willingness to bring him some food, he knew that no matter how Claude might have tried to persuade her, Catherine still wouldn't do anything she absolutely didn't want to do. She had consciously chosen to do so and Henry interpreted that as a good sign.  
He didn't want to read too much into this, but Henry was sure that this was a first sign that his wife was willing to forgive him. A very small yet first milestone on his way back to her good side.

He hurried to set the table and placed a plate, silverware and something to drink in front of each chair.  
"I'll eat upstairs," Charles announced but Henry shook his head in denial.  
"No, you're going to eat here. With us," he added and ignored his son's sulking. Upon hearing this, Catherine looked in his direction and questioningly raised an eyebrow. Henry just winked at her mischievously.

Their family dinner was very harmonious by their standards. Only when the kids disappeared in their rooms did Henry realized that he was now alone with his wife and an unfamiliar feeling of excitement struck him.  
"Do you have plans for tonight?" he asked casually and was instantly annoyed with himself about how clumsy and uninspired his question sounded.  
"I will have a look at the Scott contract Barry sent me earlier. Oh, and I should really get the rest of the bags from my car," his wife revealed willingly.  
"Don't bother, I'll get them for you," Henry offered and signaled Catherine to stay seated.

With a smile on his lips, he reached for her keys and crossed the driveway in his socks. After opening the trunk, Henry inspected her purchases with curiosity. Especially one bag caught his attention.  
"Look, what do we have here? Victoria's Secret," he muttered and after making sure that no one was watching him, Henry moved the pink paper aside to get a glimpse at the delicate contents of the bag.

"Holy shit," Henry muttered breathlessly while giving the underwear a closer examination. There was one set that stood out significantly. A potential wet dream made of black lace and completely see-through. Being worn, this lingerie would most likely reveal more than it would cover up.  
A sinful breath of nothing.  
And while he imagined his wife wearing this, a second later he wondered if there was a reason why Catherine had bought such sexy underwear.  
For in his opinion, her wearing this lingerie for him was totally out of question. But for whom was she planning to wear it?

All of a sudden a picture of Richard and Catherine appeared in his mind's eye.  
Catherine, who had worriedly leant over this asshole after Henry had punched him for having the audacity to admit that he loved another man's wife. His wife! This picture was followed by another notional image. One that showed him Catherine who was lying in Richard's arms, being kissed and loved by him.  
An ice-cold shiver went down his spine and Henry dropped slip and bra as if they had burned his skin.

His wife was indeed having an affair. With his former best friend. At once he also remembered the moment with Aylee in Catherine's anteroom and her appointment in the beauty parlor. Including waxing.  
His stomach turned at the thought that she might be doing this for Richard, that the other man had seen his wife naked and that this asshole was actually bedding her.

Henry was shellshocked and felt unable to face her now after what he'd just realized. He was too afraid to look into her eyes and see there that it was too late for him and for their marriage, that his efforts were in vain and that she loved another man.

So Henry just dropped her bags in the hallway and shouted towards the kitchen door:  
"I'm off to bed, good night."  
He didn't even wait for a reply, but fled upstairs. Away from Catherine, away from that damned lingerie. But what he couldn't escape from were his thoughts.

Once he'd reached his bedroom, Henry threw himself on his unmade bed and let out a primal scream, followed by some obscene curses.  
Catherine was having an affair. With Richard of all people. For whom she was wearing sexy underwear and endured waxing!  
When was the last time he, her husband, had seen her in lingerie or even naked? He couldn't remember. The few times they had jumped each others bones like animals, they hadn't even bothered to fully undress.

He knew that he was wronging Catherine. He himself had betrayed her countless times, albeit with her knowledge and consent.

And then there was her goddamn trauma.  
Why was she able to sleep with Richard, allow him to touch her, but kept her own husband at arm's length? Did she associate the trauma she was still suffering from with him? Was that the reason why she could not bear his closeness and his touches? Did his mere existence remind her of the terror she'd had to endure?

If this was indeed the case, how could he even blame her when she was searching for love and safeness in another man's arms?  
The more he pondered over it, the more confused his train of thoughts became. So confused that he pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes in denial as if to hide from this bitter reality.

He simply didn't know what to do.  
Should he continue fighting for her? For their marriage?  
Catherine was worth every effort - without question - but was there even a spark of hope left for them?


End file.
